Unforgivable Promises
by Aethen
Summary: With the Death Eaters becoming bolder and Voldemort's power on the rise, Harry must learn just what it takes to fight for the people he loves. Takes place directly after OotP. SLASH - HPSS No binding charms, no creature mates, no comical potions disasters that leave Harry and Severus stuck together, just time and a little understanding.
1. Chapter 1

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 1

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For the first time in his life, Harry thought three weeks after leaving Hogwarts, he was almost happier locked up with he Dursleys on Privet Drive than at the school. He still recalled his first night in the Gryffindor dormitory and the first real feeling of home-coming he'd ever experienced. But he no longer wanted to be home. Hogwarts, Dumbledore, even Ron and Hermione, all reminded him of what he'd lost.

"Sirius," he thought as the familiar pang of loss and guilt swept over him. His wand and books remained in his trunk, unopened since he arrived at the house. He barely even looked at Hedwig anymore, except to send out his promised letters every three days. As much as he wanted to avoid thinking about anything having to do with the wizarding world, he knew that Moody and Mr. Weasley would be true to their word, and if three days passed without a letter from him, he'd likely look outside to see Tonks entertaining the neighbors with her newest hair color as Moody laid siege to the house. No, the last thing he wanted was a visit from anyone.

The Dursleys, though, didn't know anything about what had happened in the past few months. Harry was disinclined to share, and the Dursleys certainly would not ask. The peace, though, was starting to fade. His Aunt had started making comments about him being even more depressing than usual, and his uncle could not resist grunting and rolling his eyes whenever Harry indulged in some well-earned self pity.

And worse, Harry knew that outside the walls of his habitual summer prison, war was fast approaching. As painful as such thoughts were–they all began and ended with his godfather's death–Harry's conscience refused to allow him to forget the lives that were still at stake. But always, grief won out as Harry cried himself to sleep on more than one night.

Last night had been such a night, and a bad one at that. It was always worse when he had to write to Moody and the Weasleys. The letters were always short–just enough to keep the Aurors from "rescuing" him.

"Dear Mr. Weasley," the latest had read. "I continue to fare well. Tell Moody and the rest (and Ron and Hermione) that they needn't worry about me."

But he was lying. He was _not_ fine. Yes, his uncle was too terrified of Moody, and worse, Tonks with her ever-changing hair color (What would the neighbors say?), to so much as raise his voice at Harry. But, still, Harry was anything but fine. Sometimes, he wanted his uncle to yell, to scream, maybe even hit him, to lash out, so Harry could feel something besides his terrible loss. That never happened, though, and so Harry was left alone to his mourning last night, just like all the nights before.

A soft flutter of wings and the gentle ringing sounds of Hedwig settling into her cage woke Harry from another restless sleep. With a soft hoot, Harry's beloved owl noticed him waking and dropped a folded slip of paper from her beak. Harry glanced at the parchment, which bore no writing on the outside, before stepping over it and getting dressed.

Harry was in no rush to read another letter from any of the Order members. He had already received enough of them, all sympathetic, all offering to share his loss as they, too, had known and cared for Sirius.

But dammit! They didn't love him the way Harry had. They had their own brothers, their own fathers, their own uncles–Uncle Vernon certainly didn't count as an uncle in anything but name. Sirius had become his entire family, and now he was gone. No one could understand how much he had lost, and he resented them for pretending they could. And the letters from Ron and Hermione were almost worse. He had made it perfectly clear during the last few days of school that he did not want to talk about Sirius at all. Even as he read their transparently upbeat letters, he could see them dancing around the subject. That depressed him even more.

So, it was much later that day, after helping his aunt clean most of the house, that he finally succumbed and picked up the missive. He knew he would be expected to respond, and putting it off would not make it go away.

This letter, though, was not what he'd expected. Not at all.

_Dear Harry,_

_Your Occlumency lessons were never really completed, so I will be teaching you from now on. It is imperative that we begin immediately. Enclosed, you'll find a small packet of Floo Powder. Use it to meet me in Diagon Alley tonight at sundown. _

_Yours, _

Remus Lupin

With a sigh, Harry reached toward his trunk, then stopped. Did he really want to go back? The answer to that was simple: no. But he also knew that if he stayed, Remus, and perhaps the rest of the Order, would be here to save him from his uncle. Better to tell Remus face to face, Harry decided, noticing that it would soon be dusk. He rummaged around his trunk and finally found his wand, along with a robe so he could blend in better in the Alley. Grabbing the promised packet of Floo Powder, he headed downstairs quietly.

The sound of the door closing let Harry know that Uncle Vernon had gone out to water the front lawn. The back lawn, of course, had a sprinkler since there was no point in watering a lawn if the neighbors could not see you doing it and comment on how nice and green your grass was. Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen, just starting to wash the evening's dishes. He would have a few minutes to explain to Remus that he had no desire to learn anything and get back before he had been missed. No problem.

In Diagon Alley, Harry had just brushed the soot from his robes when a strong hand gripped his shoulder. "Hang on, 'Arry," Hagrid's rough voice whispered from behind.

"Actually, Hagrid, I . . . " Harry's words were cut short as the Alley disappeared from sight, replaced with the now-familiar Grimmauld Place. Harry turned to Hagrid as the giant stowed a brightly colored baby's rattle inside his heavy coat.

"Portkey." Hagrid explained, glancing nervously about.

"Where's Remus, Hagrid?" Harry explained, "I don't have much time. I'm going back to the Dursleys. I just came to tell Remus that."

"Not now, Harry." Hagrid gripped Harry gently, but with a power that Harry knew he would not be able to struggle from. "Remus sent me to get you. E's out. Everyun's out, actually. Tonks got 'erself into some kind o' trouble wit some Death Eaters, an they went t'help." Hagrid spoke as he half-led, half-dragged Harry to the door marked "12."

The Black's familial home was the last place Harry wanted to be. As much as Sirius hated the place, it did, and always would, remind Harry of his godfather. The now-familiar darkness filled his heart as he gazed around the hallway.

"What about Tonks?" Harry suddenly remembered what Hagrid had told him. "Is she okay?"

"'Fraid I don't know. I just come in m'self when Remus gave me th' Portkey an sent me after ya. Everyun ran out with 'im." Hagrid could not hide his own concern. "I'll put some food on." The giant made his way quietly into the kitchen, leaving Harry to wonder, briefly, what the Dursleys would think once they found him missing. He had expected to be back by now, and he knew Hagrid better than to think he could convict the groundskeeper to let him leave the house without a direct order from Dumbledore.

"Not quite everyone left, actually." Harry flinched as Professor Snape stepped into the hallway. "A benefit of being forced to hide my allegiance is not having to run to the aid of fools."

"Professor Snape," Harry said coldly. Snape was another reminder of things he wanted to forget, and he still held the Potions Master partially to blame for Sirius's death.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Potter," Snape's sneer deepened. "I expected you to be pining away at that muggle halfwit's all summer."

"I don't want to be here," Harry responded. "I'm going back as soon as Remus returns."

"Tsk, tsk, Potter. Is that any way for the hero of the wizarding world to act? Of course, if Black had been as willing to hide away as you are, maybe he'd still be alive."

"Never speak of him again! At least he died without that bloody Mark on him!" Harry forgot whom he was talking to as his fury took over. How dare Snape talk like that about Sirius? _Snape_ was the one who kept goading Sirius, prodding him and laughing at him until he finally could not stand it anymore. It was Snape's fault Sirius was so angry at being forced to hide that he had left to the Ministry that night. All thought turned to anger as Harry reacted. Hand balled tightly into a fist, Harry swung up at the taller teacher, landing a punch squarely on Snape's jaw.

Harry realized what he had done immediately and began shaking with terror. The only other person in the house was Hagrid, and the giant could only do a few spells at most, despite being banned from all magic. If Snape decided to kill him, Harry knew he would be unable to defend himself.

"Pro-professor . . . " Harry stammered, "I . . . "

Snape had not moved a muscle the whole time. He did not even look surprised or angry at what Harry had done. That just made Harry even more frightened. After an eternity, Snape's lips curled in the smirk that all Slytherins seemed to learn before they could hold a wand.

With a raised eyebrow, the professor remarked coldly, "Stop shaking. I don't intend to punish you for that. It is, after all, not the first time I've been struck by a Potter. Your father would be proud. I imagine your godfather would be as well."

Turning smoothly, the former Death Eater strode from the room, leaving Harry, still shaking, to slump against the wall and slide into a nearby chair.

Damn him! Harry fumed as his fear of retribution subsided. How can he talk about Sirius that way? How can he make what happened into a joke? Sirius never would have hidden away if it hadn't been absolutely necessary! He wanted to be out there fighting with everyone else.

Where I should be.

The thought came unbidden, but Harry knew immediately that it was right. So many people had died fighting Voldemort. Even if he could hide forever, he owed it to them all to keep fighting. He owed it to Sirius, and he owed it to his father.

With that, another thought came unbidden. Snape's comment about making his father proud. He had never really gotten to speak to Snape about what the Penseive had shown, and that troubled him. After Dumbledore's talk with him at the end of last semester, Harry had finally realized something that, while so obvious, also shocked him. Adults were not perfect. Not Dumbledore. Not father. Even Sirius was not, though Harry was still angry at Dumbledore for pointing out so many of Sirius's faults that night.

But he could not blame Snape for hating him any more.

Still shaking slightly, as much from his state of mind now as the heat of the moment earlier, Harry stood and stepped toward the door of the parlor Snape had disappeared into. As he cracked the door open, he could make out the shape of Snape's form in an overstuffed chair. The room's dim gloom made for a surreal sight, as the instructor's pale skin contrasted with his long black hair.

Gathering his courage, Harry opened the door and stepped inside. "Professor Snape?" He asked hesitantly. "Professor, I'm terribly sorry."

"Don't bother, Potter. I've already explained that you won't be punished. This, after all, is not Hogwarts. There are no house points here, and I have better things to attend to than some makeshift detention."

"I know, sir. I mean, I know you aren't going to . . . do anything to me. But . . . " Suddenly, his apology seemed meaningless. How much had Snape suffered at his father's hands? What he had seen in the Pensieve had been bad enough, but he knew from Sirius and Remus that that was just one day in a long line of humiliations. And now he had done the same. He knew the danger Snape put himself in by betraying Voldemort, but Harry had thrown Snape's mistake of years passed in his face before following it with a physical blow. As hard it was to think that Snape might have emotions, Harry knew which attack must have hurt Snape more. Harry's voice was very small as it stumbled through the darkness between them. "I'm sorry." He was no longer talking about what had happened in the hallway. Not entirely.

Harry could see the Potion Paster's eyes on him, the whites reflecting in the darkness. "Close the door behind you, Potter."

Harry obeyed silently, leaving the older man in the dark parlor and heading into the kitchen to find Hagrid.

"Alright, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked.

Harry nodded. "I just ran into Professor Snape in the hall. I didn't expect to see him here."

"Oh, right, I'd fergotten 'e was still 'ere. Too dangrous fer 'im to do anythin' direct against You-Know-'Oo."

Harry nodded again and sat down at the table.

"You sure you're alright?" Hagrid looked concerned.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid. I'm okay, really, I am. I'm just worried about Tonks."

"Ah, she'll be fine. She's a tough one, she is."

Harry smiled weakly.

The pair sat in silence for some time, Harry lost in his thoughts about Sirius, Snape and his father, while Hagrid tossed what looked to be sausage and several unidentifiable ingredients into a pot and let it simmer over the fire. The smell of whatever Hagrid was cooking was moments away from being unbearable when the front door slammed open.

Harry rushed to the hallway to see a mass of robes, cloaks and wands push through the doorway. One cloak separated from the group, and Harry was relieved to see bright pink hair sticking out from beneath the hood.

"Harry!" the young Auror exclaimed and pulled him into a hug.

Blushing, Harry asked, "Are you okay? Hagrid said everyone had gone out to rescue you."

"Rescue!" Tonks snorted, "Hardly a rescue. I just needed a little help, is all."

They were interrupted by Moody's gruff voice, "Everyone make it back? I caught a flash coming from one of the Death Eater's wands right when we Disapparated." Moody pulled his cloak off and examined the group in the doorway, his magical eye turning as always.

"Where is Mr. Lupin?" Harry immediately recognized Dumbledore's voice.

The remaining group quickly shed their cloaks, revealing worried faces as they realized the rescue mission had not been as successful as planned. Mr. Weasley, who Harry had not noticed till now, spoke. "I'm going back for him." He had his wand out and the door halfway open before Moody grabbed his arm.

"It's too late," Moody grunted. "There were too many of them, Arthur. And it's been too long. He either got away, or that curse I saw killed him, or . . . " Moody's voice died away. No one wanted to accept the third option.

"Or he's been captured." It was Dumbledore who finally spoke up. "As much as I, and everyone else, would hope that he escaped, until we know what has happened to Remus, we must assume that the Order is in danger. As Remus is not the Secret Keeper for the Order, this place will remain secure. Everything else, however, may fall into Voldemort's hands."

"I refuse to accept that!" Mrs. Weasley said. "Yes, Remus may have been captured. But there is still time. If he's hurt and on the run, he needs our help. If he's captured, they may not be able to take him to You-Know-Who right away, depending on the curse they used."

Dumbledore nodded slightly, "Yes, Molly, of course you are right. As long as this place is secure, we have nothing to lose by looking for him, and everything to gain. Molly and Arthur, return, quietly, to the estate and see if you can find any signs of what happened. I expect you to return immediately should you come across any Death Eaters, is that understood?"

The Weasley's both nodded with a fierce look on their faces he had never expected to see on the two jovial parents of his best friend.

"The rest of us have our own means of finding information. I suggest we all look to our contacts," Dumbledore finished.

"And I shall look to mine." Harry jumped as Snape's cool voice came from just behind him.

"No, Severus, I think it would be best if you stayed." Dumbledore raised a hand to silence Snape's objections. "Though I am sure Remus would thank you for your concern."

Snape gave a snort in reply, "If Lupin has been taken by the Death Eaters, it is quite possible that the Dark Lord will allow me to be present at his torturing." The group, especially Harry, winced at Snape's directness. _Typical Slytherin_, Harry thought, and immediately regretted it.

"It is also quite possible that I will be asked to administer the Veritaserum that will no doubt be used. As much as I dislike doing Lupin a favor, I can see to it that the potion kills him quickly." Harsh words, but even Harry knew that death would be a favor to one being questioned by the Death Eaters.

"No, Severus," Dumbledore shook his head again. "You are far too skilled a Potions Master for Voldemort to believe you could overdose someone as important to him as Remus. If you did that, your life would be forfeit, and he would certainly look to question you next. I will not put you both in that danger. And yes, I do know that you are in danger now, however," Dumbledore's face looked pained, "Everything Remus knows, you know also, but there is much that you know that Remus does not. Death Eaters that have not yet betrayed him but may. Weaknesses in the Death Eater hierarchy and vulnerabilities that you have seen but not reported to him. No. If one of you must be questioned, it is better for us, better for all of the wizarding world, that it be Remus."

The old man gestured to the others gathered, who quickly donned their cloaks again and headed into the night. Dumbledore prepared to leave as well.

"I must return to Hogwarts. I have artifacts that may allow me to scry Remus's location. Severus, in the meantime, I ask you to once again take over young Mr. Potter's Occlumency lessons."

Harry grew pale at Dumbledore's words, and he thought that if Professor Snape was not already white, he would have done the same.

"I know I do not ask an easy thing of you, but Severus, this is important. He cannot be shielded by us forever, and the Dark Lord will not forget his link to Harry simply because his last plan failed. The Black family had a Pensieve in their artifact collection. And Harry, I will not remind you of why these lessons are so important. I had intended to return you to the Dursleys after your lessons each evening, but we no longer have the luxury of moving about so freely. You will stay here for the time being. I will inform your Aunt."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. No matter how many people told him it was not his fault, Harry knew that if he had taken his lessons with Snape last year more seriously, if he had not made Snape hate him even more by looking into the Pensieve, then Voldemort never would have lured Sirius into the Ministry of Magic that night. As for informing his Aunt, he supposed that at least their mind would be eased from the worry that he might be returning soon.

And suddenly, Harry was alone again with Professor Snape. Even Hagrid had left, as the Groundskeeper had spent the past month getting some intelligent creatures to spy on several Death Eaters.

"Well, Mr. Potter, once again you will have an opportunity to fail to impress me with your mediocre skills." With his typical spin, robes flowing around him, Snape turned around and headed back into the parlor. A bit unsure of himself, Harry remained in the hallway. As it always was when dealing with Snape, the decision to hesitate was wrong. "Exactly what are you waiting for Potter? Creevey is not here, so you will have to get used to coming into rooms without a photo being taken of your grand entrance."

With a sigh, Harry entered the parlor and sat down across from the imposing teacher. Confused, Harry realized that the Pensieve Dumbledore had spoken about was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps in the attic?

"In order to protect one's mind from intrusions . . . " Snape began as soon as Harry had sat down.

"Uh, sir?" Harry dared to interrupt. Surely, Snape was going to use the Pensieve. "The Pensieve . . . "

"Do not interrupt, Potter! The Pensieve is not here as the Pensieve is not needed. We will not be performing any magic tonight." Snape's lip curled into a dark sneer. "Do you really want to be connected to my mind should the Dark Lord discover I am a spy for Dumbledore?"

Harry started. "But he can't find you here, can he?"

"Professor." Snape reminded him calmly.

"Uh. He can't find you here, can he, Professor?"

"Honestly, living with those muggles has destroyed what little of your brain existed. He does not need to find me. The Mark is enough. It binds me to him, and he can use it at his will. There is no hiding from it."

Harry shivered at the surety of his tone. Now the Potions Master was eyeing Harry.

"In fact, Mr. Potter, I am going to offer you something. A chance that every Gryffindor who has ever fumbled his way through my class would have given anything to have." From the black folds of his robe, Snape pulled forth a small bottle and set it on the table between them. Harry studied the bottle curiously but did not reach for it. The bottle was clear class with a thick black substance coating the inside. The stopper, too, was glass and held in place by a metal band.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"Poison," Snape said simply. "If Lupin is brought in front of the Dark Lord, it will be at most a matter of hours before I am discovered." Harry opened his mouth to defend his friend, but Snape cut him short. "That was not an insult, merely a fact. No one can bear the Dark Lord's scrutiny for long. I know that better than anyone. I carry that bottle for the day that my betrayal is found out. So tell me, Mr. Potter. How many times since you first got to Hogwarts have you wished me dead?" Snape smirked at the boy.

"Sir!" Harry was horrified to hear the instructor speak of his own death so casually. "I never–I mean, I didn't . . . "

"Of course you did, Potter. All students do. The mark of a good teacher is the fear and hatred they instill in their students." Snape chuckled without mirth. "Honestly, Mr. Potter. You never wished the evil Potions Master any harm? Never hoped for the day when you could turn the tables on me and make me suffer?"

Snape was baiting him, and Harry knew it. But Harry refused to rise to it. He simply agreed, "Well, sir, I suppose I have, but as you said, it's only the silly fantasies of a student." And he continued. Somewhere, he'd decided that it was important to show not just Snape, but the entire Order, that he was no longer a child. Dumbledore was finally realizing it, and Harry understood that petulant objections that he was _not_ a child only reinforced the image that he was. "But if you're asking me if I'm willing to use that potion on you, the answer's yes."

Harry was treated to the brief expression of surprise that swept across Snape's visage. "If Voldemort finds out about you and attacks you through your Mark, I'll feel it too. At least, I have before, so why not now?" Harry was trying to sound as nonchalant as Snape had, but his voice shook as he continued, "I've felt him kill before. I've been there, watching from his eyes, when he . . . t-took his time . . . When he wanted them to . . . to suffer. If I have to, sir, I'll kill you." Harry met Snape's unreadable gaze. _May I never have to make a promise like that again_, Harry thought.

"Extraordinary, Potter. In one breath you've killed me and managed to make yourself a martyr in the process. An easy task for the Boy Who Lived, no doubt."

Harry managed to swallow his anger. _I only said that because he asked me!_ He noticed, though, that the glass bottle remained on the table, placed within easy reach should Harry need to get it quickly. He finally shrugged it off as Snape being Snape as the instructor began lecturing on the theory of Occlumency.


	2. Chapter 2

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 2

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Despite Harry's misgivings, the Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape had gone surprisingly well. Focusing on theory instead of practice, Harry had been able to get answers to some questions that Snape had simply barked at during their previous sessions. Though he had not been able to really try anything out, he thought he had a better grasp of what Snape had been showing him. _Maybe if I could get him to talk about potions theory, I would do better in that class, too,_ Harry thought. Apparently watching Snape demonstrate a technique flawlessly, then getting yelled at as he fumbled through it, was not how Harry learned best.

Nothing else about the evening had gone well, though. After four hours, a few of the Order members had returned briefly then run out again with nothing new to report. Once Snape had declared that Harry was too dense to absorb any more magical theory, Harry had moved to the kitchen where he disposed of Hagrid's attempt at dinner with a cleaning spell. Having nothing else to do, Harry kept some water going for tea and set the rest of Hagrid's sausage cooking with some potatoes. Eventually, someone would return with news, good or bad, and preparing for them kept Harry from worrying too much. Snape, on the other hand, had headed to his room as soon as the lessons were concluded.

As the night wore on, Harry found it harder to distract himself from his thoughts. The water for tea eventually boiled away, and the meager meal he had prepared was resting comfortably in a bespelled warmer that would keep it fresh for several more hours. He tried tidying up but found that, since Kreacher's departure, the house had been laden with cleaning spells, so there was little need for a broom or dust-rag. With a final sigh of submission, Harry allowed his fears to surface.

With Sirius gone, Harry was again without family. Friends he had. He knew Ron and Hermione would stick with him through anything. They already _had_ for that matter, and Harry made a mental note to do something to show his appreciation for that. They took their family for granted and likely did not understand just what they meant to him. Not that he blamed them for that. Not now, at least, though in moments of self-pity that Harry was not proud of, he had sent bitter words into the night about the injustice of losing Sirius when people like Ron were so surrounded by family they spent more time complaining about brothers and sisters, parents, aunts and uncles, cousins and distant relatives, than appreciating them.

As much as he enjoyed the Weasley family and their love and attention, they would always remain his friend's family. Harry loved and respected Dumbledore, but not the way he loved Sirius. Dumbledore was too distant to be thought of as family. Tonks and Moody were great in a pinch, but neither was the type of person you could spend hours talking to about the kinds of things he shared with Sirius. The only person in his life he thought he could look up to like that was Remus. And now he, too, may be lost.

_Damn Voldemort!_ Harry cried silently. _Damn him for taking everything from me. Damn him!_

Harry's mind clouded with anger and hatred. Swept up into his righteous anger, Harry barely felt his scar burning until his vision darkened, and he found himself once again in the familiar and terrifying mind of his enemy.

_The small circular room was dank and moldy, and no windows interrupted the stone surfaces surrounding him. Through the room's only door, a masked Death Eater approached hesitantly. Harry felt a haughty sneer curl his lips as he recognized the fear oozing through the robes and mask. He could smell it on the air, see it in the slight tremble of the robes. He waited for his servant to speak. Fear this strong meant his servant had failed at something and expected punishment. He knew he would be angry shortly, but for now, he enjoyed the rank odor of terror in the room._

_"Forgive me, Master." The masked wizard tried to keep his voice steady. Voldemort fed on fear but grew annoyed when his followers indulged too much in the weakness. "Something went wrong with our plans tonight. The girl was stronger than we'd expected. Others from the Order arrived, and she escaped. We chased one of them into a cave, though. That cursed werewolf." The Death Eater's voice grew steadier. He had survived the news about their failed mission, no doubt he hoped that the following good news would allow him to escape punishment. A foolish hope. Voldemort never forgot to punish. "We have anti-Apparating charms on the cave. He cannot escape. I left two guards on the cave, and returned for reinforcements. We tried to go in after him ourselves, but the mouth is too narrow to evade his spells."_

_"Return, then." _Voldemort's voice echoed painfully through Harry's mind. _"Take as many Death Eaters as you must to bring him to me alive. But first, let me remind you of what waits if you fail me again tonight." Harry's wand–no, Voldemort's–flashed before him. "Crucio." The man before him crumpled to the floor in agony._ Harry burned in pain with the Death Eater. Some small part of his mind thought back to his Occlumency lessons, and Harry finally shielded his mind. With the pain gone, Harry was able to pull himself from Voldemort's mind. Quietly, he hoped.

Harry needed all his strength to pull himself from the table in the kitchen. He needed to tell Snape what had happened. Weak legs carried him up the stairs to one of the spare rooms. "Professor Snape," Harry called hoarsely. He knew his voice had not penetrated the door, so he banged his fist on the solid wood panel. "Professor!" He tried again, though little of his strength had returned.

Finally, an annoyed Snape pulled open the door. "What is it, Potter? Another apology?"

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just that I've had another vision. Voldemort. And I know where Remus went. He's in a cave. The Death Eater said they'd chased him in there, so he can't be too far away from wherever Tonks was."

"What else did you hear?" Snape ignored Harry's fading pain and weakness.

"The cave's surrounded with anti-Apparating charms, so he can't escape." Harry suddenly remembered something else, "And the Weasleys were supposed to be searching around there! If the Death Eaters find them. . . They're going back with more wizards to capture Remus."

"Did you see the Death Eaters on their way there?"

"N-no, sir. Voldemort was. . . punishing. . . the one I saw first. There's still time! Someone has to go save Remus."

Snape gazed coldly at Harry and said, "Surely even a wit as dim as yours isn't fooled by this, Potter." Harry stared back in shock. "A friend is in trouble, and you're the only one around to save him. Sound familiar?"

Harry digested that for a moment. "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, I see what you mean. But this time it was different. My other visions were always when Voldemort was feeling some strong emotion. Like when he was planning to kill someone. This time he was just sitting alone when the vision started. The Death Eater came in after I was watching. And once he cast Crucio, I pulled away. When I had the other visions, I could never get away when I wanted to."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he studied Harry. "What were you doing when the vision started?"

Harry blushed, not wanting to admit that he'd been wallowing, again, in self pity.

"Were you thinking of the Dark Lord?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded.

"And what emotions were you feeling?"

"I was angry, and sad. I was thinking about Remus, and what Voldemort might do to him."

"If that is indeed what you were feeling, then you are a fool, and this vision is another scheme of his. Care to give another answer, or shall I return to sleep?"

_Damn him for making me say it,_ Harry thought. "I was thinking about me, sir, and what Voldemort had done to _me_ and how much I hated him for it." Certainly someone as hateful as Snape couldn't blame Harry for his feelings.

Snape nodded. "Perhaps you initiated the connection, then. Dumbledore believes that love protected you from his curse when you were a baby. But that curse was cast in hate, and through hate you are bound to the Dark Lord. Hate is the emotion you both share." Snape took a moment to consider. "You were able to extricate yourself from his mind? How?"

Hopeful that the Potions Master believed him, Harry explained, "I shielded my mind, as you'd shown me, Professor. Once I wasn't feeling everything that Voldemort was, I realized I could pull myself out of his mind."

Snape raised an eyebrow and remarked, "There may be some hope for you left." The older wizard stepped into the hallway and, closing his door behind him, led Harry back to the first floor.

"Very well," Snape said. "It would seem that it falls to me to me." Harry nearly insisted that he go too, but he realized that the instructor was certainly going to be Apparating. He had no way to follow. "Stay hidden, no matter how much time passes. If I return and find you've so much as peeked through a window, you will not enjoy my reaction. I realize you have a habit of running into the arms of danger at times like these, Potter, but right now you are only a liability. Leaving this house will put you in danger there is no need to be in, and if I need to hear Dumbledore lecturing on how important you are, I will take it out on your hide. Are we clear?"

As much as he hated to stay behind, he knew Snape was right. "Yes, sir," Harry replied. And with a swirl of robes and the click of the front door closing, Harry was, once again, left alone.

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Harry woke to the sound of the door opening. His neck hurt and both arms were tingling from the odd position he had fallen asleep in. Groggy, he raised his head and realized he had nodded off at the kitchen table. As his thoughts cleared, he remembered his worry for Remus and Snape's hasty departure. He rushed to the door, both hopeful and terrified, and nearly collided with Tonks.

"Sorry, Harry." The young woman grimaced. "No luck so far. I couldn't find out anything." With a sigh, the young Auror shook out her green hair.

Still foggy from his interrupted nap, Harry had no idea how much time had already passed. Glancing at his watch, he realized that it had been less than twenty minutes since Snape had gone off to help Remus. Harry's story spilled forth as he explained everything to Tonks.

For her part, Tonks took the whole thing in stride. With only a few questions, she agreed that Snape had done the right thing in going out after Remus. "After all," Tonks said, "he knows more about Occlumency than I do. If he thinks it wasn't a trick of the Dark Lord's, it probably wasn't."

"But what if he's caught?" Harry was suddenly aware of the danger Snape was putting himself in by taking action. If Snape was identified, there would be no escape. "I should have gone with him."

"If there's only two of them there like you said, he'll be fine. He's got surprise on his side, not to mention, well, he's Professor Snape. He's meaner than any two Death Eater's combined." Tonk's attempt at levity was lost on Harry, who now found himself worrying about Remus _and_ Snape.

"And if he's not fine," Tonks continued, "well, then Remus will be captured anyway, and Snape won't last long either way. Better to go fighting, right?"

Harry merely sighed.

"Listen, Harry, staying here was the right thing to do. Arthur and Molly were looking around there, and Severus may not like them, but he knows they can handle themselves when the hexes start to fly. But now I'm curious. What did he threaten you with to get you to stay here?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "Well, he did threaten me, but he didn't need to. He was right when he said I'd be a liability. And the last time I tried to help someone. . ." Harry trailed off as tears once again threatened and his throat constricted.

"You can't blame yourself for that, Harry. I know you keep hearing that, and I won't keep lecturing you on it. But when I became an Auror, the hardest thing for me to learn was my limits. I wanted to save everyone. I damn near got myself killed trying. A part of growing up is knowing when you can't help, even if it means leaving a loved one in the hands of someone else. You do what seems best at the time, and you hope it's the right choice. That's all anyone can do."

Another sigh.

"I know that, Tonks. It's just hard to get my head and my heart to agree."

Tonks gave Harry a warm hug. "No one said growing up was easy, Harry," she said. "That's why I, for one, have refused to do it." The joke earned a half-hearted smile from Harry. "Well, my head is telling me to stay with you. By now, those other Death Eaters will be there. And Remus and the rest have either escaped or it's too late for me to help." She made her way into the kitchen and began helping herself to the food Harry had prepared. "Time to wait and hope for the best."

They were not forced to wait too long. Minutes after Tonks had sat down, the front door swung wide once again, and four dark figures crowded into the hall. Harry reflected that most of his evening had been spent waiting in the kitchen and running into the hallway as he once again leapt from his chair.

"Everything's okay, Harry." Mrs. Weasley's voice greeted him. "Remus will be okay."

Harry hadn't realized how tense he was until he heard those words and his body finally relaxed. Remus was supporting his right arm with his left. The forearm hung oddly in his grip.

Remus explained, "Bone's gone. One of them got me just as we were Apparating. I dropped my wand and missed my chance to get away, so I took off into the woods. No worries, though. I'm sure Severus has an extra painful bone growing potion for me somewhere, eh?"

Harry nearly fell over with relief to hear Remus joking. The potion _would_ be painful, though. Harry recalled his own experience with regrowing bones and shuddered.

"I will have to brew one. Perhaps with a little experimentation, I can enhance the somatic component. You may not enjoy the results, but I would." Harry wasn't entirely sure what Snape had meant by that, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with Remus being in pain and Snape liking the thought.

"Professor?" Harry interrupted. "What about the Death Eaters? Did they recognize you?"

His smirk made its customary appearance as Snape replied, "Dead men cannot see." Later, Harry would be surprised that the answer left him with little emotion. They may be his enemies, but when did he become so callous at the deaths of Voldemort's servants?

"Well," Mr. Weasley said. "Someone needs to tell Albus and Moody that everything's okay. I think I know where to find Moody. Molly, you should probably head to Hogwarts and see if Albus is still there."

Mrs. Weasley agreed, adding that if she did not return to the Burrow soon, Ron and Ginny would be running feral. Tonks helped Remus to his room and commented that she needed her own rest. Finally, Snape and Harry were the only two left awake in the house.

Though he knew he should be tired, Harry was wide awake. Now that Remus was back, he had something to focus his mind and energy on. "Will you be brewing the potion for Remus tonight, Professor?" Harry asked, and got a curt nod in response.

"May I help you, then?" The question surprised even Harry. The Occlumency lesson, though, certainly could have gone worse, and Harry was curious if that had merely been a fluke. Besides, now he might finally be able to _do_ something to help Remus instead of just sitting around worrying.

Snape regarded Harry as a stranger might appraise a stray dog. "I find it hard to envision a scenario wherein you would be helpful brewing a potion. And I have had several years to do so." Harry blushed, but again did not rise to the offered bait.

"I just thought perhaps I could tend to the brazier, or lay out any ingredients for you, Professor." He could put up with Snape's remarks if he got a chance to help Remus. He knew trying to sleep was pointless anyway, and countless restless nights on Privet Drive had taught Harry just how long the night can be.

"Well, you do seem literate enough to read the labels on bottles if even you have a hard time stringing a full sentence together on your own. Very well." Relieved, Harry followed the Potions Master to his room, where he had a rudimentary potions lab set up.

The relief did not last long.

"Do those coals look bright orange to you, Potter?"

"Uh, no sir."

"Then color-blindness is not your excuse. Leave the brazier; I will handle it myself."

"Mr. Potter, did I ask you for lacewing flies?"

"Uh, no sir, that's the horned slugs you needed."

"I stand corrected about your literacy, then. Your reading skills not quite what I had hoped."

"You can't crush leeches with a knife, Mr. Potter."

"But I was slicing them, sir."

"The tubeworms, which you appear to have crushed, were to be chopped. The leeches that you are chopping need to be crushed."

The evening had _not_ improved after that, and Harry finally left to his own room when Snape began speculating that Harry was working for Voldemort and his help with the potion was meant to torture Snape and kill Remus.

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The following morning, Harry awoke to a much busier house than he had fallen asleep in. Heading out into the hall, Harry could hear muffled grunts of pain coming from Remus's room. He was caught unawares when Snape opened Remus's door. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Bad news, I'm afraid. The potion seems to be working properly despite your assistance last night."

"I am sorry about that, sir. I did try to help, but I guess I was more tired than I realized," Harry said.

"No doubt," Snape responded. "Saving the world must be exhausting."

Harry sighed silently as Snape brushed past him and down the stairs. _Why do I bother? Snape is always going to hate me no matter what I do._

As he headed into the kitchen to see what, if anything, was to be had for breakfast, Harry was dismayed to see Snape already seated at the table. This was going to be a long summer if both he and Snape were going to be locked up in the house together. Mrs. Weasley's appearance saved Harry from having to suffer the Potion Master's cold gaze for too long.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "I didn't expect you up this early, or I'd have spelled up some breakfast for you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied. "But I'm fine with the bread and butter I found. I'm not used to a big breakfast during the summer."

Harry immediately regretted reminding the overzealous witch about his living conditions with the Dursleys. Mrs. Weasley launched into a tirade about "those people" and insisted on preparing Harry what she called a "proper" breakfast. An hour later, Harry was sure he would burst if he so much as looked at another piece of sausage. Thanking Mrs. Weasley yet again, Harry tried to escape to the second floor to check on Remus. He froze with his foot on the first step when Snape's chilly voice caught him.

"Finally finished, Mr. Potter? Then you can join me in the library. Best to get these lessons out of the way early before my mood turns foul." Harry bit his tongue and followed the instructor up to the third floor.

The library, Harry was surprised to discover, was far more cheery than the parlor below. Tall windows allowed ample light into the high-ceilinged chamber. Overstuffed chairs rested beside thick mahogany tables, and the entire room, books and all, was spotlessly clean. Most wizarding families of high standing had extensive magical libraries and archives, and the Black family had been no exception. So, when the Order of the Phoenix had moved in, the library had been one of the rooms first cleaned and restored to a livable state, as much time had been spent researching ways to combat the Dark Lord.

Harry found he was eager to being his Occlumency training. After yesterday's nearly-enjoyable session and even more after his successful exercising of control during last night's vision, Harry was finally willing to do whatever he needed in order to control the foul bond he shared with Voldemort. The Pensieve sitting beside one of the chairs made for an uneasy few moments for Harry before he decided to ignore its presence. As best he could, he suppressed the feelings of guilt and pity that rose in him at the magic device's sight. After all, Occlumency is little more than the focused control over emotions and memories, and if he could not quell his unease in this room, he would never be able to defend himself against the Dark Lord's full attention.

The lessons began with Harry giving a more detailed accounting of what had happened the previous night. As Remus was safe on the second floor, there was no need to cover the details of what had been seen and heard. Instead, Snape questioned Harry on _his_ emotional and mental state leading up to and during the time he spent in Voldemort's mind. As he had yesterday, Harry was able to ask questions of his instructor that earned useful, detailed answers. And though Harry suspected he was mistaken, he thought he saw a flash of approval when Harry described how he had chosen not to break the link until Voldemort's thoughts and actions had turned to the Crucio curse.

"Should this happen again, you must determine if you are indeed in control, or if the Dark Lord is merely allowing you to feel that you have some power of these visions," Snape had said. "There are still too many unknowns. Did you create the link with your feelings of hatred, or did that simply give him a chance to exploit a weak moment? Can you only break contact if you opened the channel yourself, or can you shield yourself from his emotions even if the visions come upon you as they did last year?"

With those questions in mind, Snape informed Harry that it was time for some practical experience. As he moved the threads of memories with his wand into the nearby Pensieve, Snape was silent and Harry had no intentions of bringing up the last incident involving Snape's memories.

Harry had no time to prepare himself for the mental attack. One moment Snape's wand had been plucking thoughts from his head, the next Snape was forcing his mind into Harry's. Taken by surprise, Harry had little time to shield himself from the onslaught and the Potions Master quickly overcame Harry's defenses.

"You must _always_ have you mind under your control, Potter. You know that," Snape lectured. Again, without warning, Snape launched another assault on Harry's mind. This time he took a different course of action, and rather than looking for stray thoughts, which Harry hand successfully cleared from his mind, the Professor began stirring up powerful emotions. Breathless, Harry was unable to defend himself as wave after wave of anger, happiness, hatred, embarrassment, loneliness and joy tumbled through him. One moment he was overcome with his hatred for Voldemort, the next he was reveling in his friendships with Ron and Hermione, annoyance at Dudley, grief for Sirius, pity for Snape. With the last, Harry's mind went blank and he could feel Snape's presence pull back so quickly from his mind that it left him off balance and slightly nauseated.

"We are done for today," Snape said, his voice sending a chill down Harry's spine. Harry was still confused and disoriented when the older wizard retrieved his memories and strode silently from the room.

Harry felt at a loss. Every hour seemed to leave Professor Snape hating him even more, and he'd only arrived at the Order's headquarters twelve hours ago. Knowing that anything he did to try to ease the tension between them would only anger Snape, Harry headed to check on Remus.

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Harry knocked on the werewolf's door softly and peeked his head inside at Remus's strained reply. "Hello, Harry," Remus said when the boy had entered the room. "I hear you're to thank for my timely rescue."

Harry responded with a weak smile and a shrug. "It wasn't exactly intended, but I supposed so. I still don't know exactly how I managed to open the link between us. Or even if I did. Professor Snape seems to think so, though, and I probably shouldn't argue with him right now."

"Trouble with Snivellus, eh Harry?" Remus asked with a chuckle that disappeared at Harry's pained expression. "What is it, Harry? If he's been making you miserable. . ."

Harry shook his head. Snape _had_ been making him miserable, but that was nothing new. "No, it's not that. It's just the name you called him. Snivellus. I remember that from the memory I saw. Do you really have to call him that?"

Remus shrugged. "Oh, it's more of a joke between us now, Harry. I don't call him that much, but I think he knows I don't really mean it."

Harry wasn't so sure, and he said so to Remus.

"If it'll make you feel better, I won't call him that any more, okay?" Remus asked. Harry smiled at the recovering wizard.

"Remus? How are you so happy? When I had to take Skele-Gro, I was in so much pain!" Harry said.

"Severus is a Potions Master, after all, and he made the potion. His tend to be a bit better than the ones Madam Pomfrey buys to stock the infirmary with. Plus, I only had a missing arm, and it's nearly recovered. I've just a few fingers left, I think.

"Now, I'm sure you came to check up on me, but judging by the look on your face when you came in here, I think you had something else on your mind too. Want to talk?"

After Remus's casual use of Snape's hated nickname, Harry was not so sure about talking to him about his situation with the Professor.

"Come on, Harry. I have to lie here all day, talking to you about your problem will make the time go faster."

Harry eventually relented and explained the deteriorating situation with Snape, from the Occlumency lesson of the day before, to his help making the potion last night, and finally to the lessons earlier that day.

Remus took a few minutes to think about what Harry had told him. "Well, Harry, I think I can explain his reaction earlier today easily enough. If there's anything Severus hates, it's being pitied. You said yourself you felt that emotion during his attack on your mind. He must have felt it too."

"I didn't mean to feel that way!" Harry protested.

"I didn't say you had, lad. But anyone would feel uncomfortable knowing they're being pitied. Especially by someone who's supposed to be their inferior. I'm afraid I don't really know how to deal with that, though. Severus is a hard man to read, and I don't know anyone who's managed to get beneath that hateful facade he puts on for everyone.

"As for the lessons, I do think I know why Occlumency goes a lot easier with you two, aside from today's unfortunate mishap, then Potions class. To him, potion making is an art, not simply a skill to be mastered. It should be appreciated for it's subtle power and fickle rules."

"But, can't you say the same thing about Occlumency?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes, you can Harry, but it's not the same to Snape." Remus paused to collect his thoughts. "Think of it this way: You taught Defense Against the Dark Arts to a bunch of students, right?" Harry nodded. "Why did you teach it?"

"Well, because everyone was going to fail if I didn't. Hermione thought I was probably better at it than the other students, since I've had so much. . . practice. And Umbridge wasn't teaching it. Not really."

"And the students you were teaching, why were they learning it?"

"Well, Ron and Hermione believed Voldemort was back, so they knew they'd need to know how to defend themselves. I guess a few of the others might have thought the same way too. But most of them were just worried about their O.W.L.s. And at least one was there to pick up girls," Harry added with a chuckle.

Remus nodded as if expecting the answer. "Good. Now, let's say someone asked you to teach them how to play Quidditch. Would you teach them? Assuming you weren't locked up with a bunch of suicidal Aurors and ex-Death Eaters, that is."

"Yes, I probably would." Harry wasn't sure where this was going.

"What if they told you they wanted to learn how to play Quidditch to pick up girls. Or because they thought if they got good enough, they'd make lots of money?"

Harry replied quickly, "Then I probably wouldn't. If they wanted to learn for girls or money, I wouldn't want to waste my time. That's not why you play Quidditch. It's about the freedom of flying; the excitement of a close game; the way it feels when you spot the snitch and _know_ the other team's seeker has no idea where it is."

Again, Remus nodded at Harry's answer. "Okay, now why are you learning Occlumency?" 

Still confused at this odd line of questioning, Harry answered, "Because I have to learn it. If I don't, Voldemort will always have a way to control me."

"Of course you realize, Harry, that's why Severus is more skilled at Occlumency than any of the Aurors in the Order," Remus said. Harry had assumed as much. The Mark Snape bore bound him to the Dark Lord just as Harry's scar did, and every time Snape entered the Dark Lord's presence he was forced to hide a part of his mind from Voldemort without allowing Voldemort to sense the masquerade.

"I still don't see. . ." Harry began.

"One last question, then, Harry. Why are you learning Potions?"

Another easy one. "I have to. I want to be an Auror some day, and I'll need to know as much about potion making as I can if I'm going to be any good at it. It's required by the Ministry of Magic."

Remus smiled broadly. "Congratulations, Harry, you've just found your answer," he said.

Harry protested that he was still as confused about the Potions Master as before, but Remus assured Harry he'd sort it out in due time. Confused, Harry stepped into the hallway and was going to return to the library, hoping to find something interesting to read. As he passed Snape's bedroom, a noxious odor told Harry that the Professor was working in his miniature laboratory. _No,_ Harry thought as Remus's words finally became clear, _he's on his Quidditch pitch._


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again to everyone who took the time to review the story. Sorry this took a bit longer to update than I'd hoped. My beta reader has run off for a few days, so I'm taking the risk of posting this without another reader's eyes. This is my first fanfic, so I'm spending a lot of time looking up details that I've forgotten from the book. If anything I've written doesn't add up with what happened in the books, let me know and I'll fix it.

To Enahma, thanks for pointing out the name switching. I was trying to be clever and force Word Perfect to ignore possessive forms of words in the user dictionary, but I goofed. 

Aethen

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 3

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Leaving Remus to rest, Harry spent the rest of the morning trying to find out what Tonks had been up to the night before. He had no success, of course, as only Mr. Weasley and Hagrid remained in the mansion. Mr. Weasley refused to give any details, and Hagrid was in the dark about the whole mission.

"But Hagrid, you must know _something _ about what happened. You were out looking for Remus, surely you knew where he'd been," Harry said.

"Well, urm, I s'pose I mighta 'eard som'in' 'bout where Tonks'd gotten 'erself inter trouble," Hagrid replied. "But I tole every'un I wouldnae tell ya, 'Arry."

Harry let it go, knowing he just needed to get the giant distracted enough later on and he would know everything Hagrid did about what went on last night. He spent the rest of the afternoon combing through the spellbooks in the library for interesting looking hexes as his mind wandered over the events of the past day.

The details of Tonks's and Remus's adventure the night before, he knew, were likely of no real importance. No more important, at least, then any of the daily threats the members of the Order of the Phoenix faced. But Harry hated being kept in the dark, and besides, he had nothing else to do over the next few months then hound everyone for information. He certainly needed something to do besides Occlumency and potions.

As his mind turned to Snape's abrupt behavior, Harry started worrying about his next Occlumency lesson. The last time the professor had gotten angry at him, he had refused to continue the lessons. Maybe Remus would be taking over for Snape now that the former Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor was safe again, as was the original plan. Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice calling him from downstairs.

"All right, Harry?" Ron must have been shouting from the first floor.

Harry dropped the book he had been flipping through and rushed to greet his friend.

"Ron!" Maybe the day would not be a total waste.

"Hey there, Harry. Mum's brought me and Ginny here for a few days." Harry gave Ginny a smile.

"Hello, Ginny. How's Dean?" Harry remembered the conversation on the train at the end of last term.

"We haven't seen each other since the train, but we've written everyday," Ginny said as a silly smile spread across her face.

"Do we _ have _ to talk about this?" Ron asked with a pained look. "Anyway, Harry, Mum said we were to stay here for a bit. Looks like the Order is up to something. Any idea what?"

Harry lead them to his room and closed the door. He explained the events of last night to the pair, only leaving out the details about Snape's sudden departure that morning. Harry had never told Ron about the memory he had seen in the Pensieve. The thought of what Snape would do to him if he did left Harry with no desire to fill his friends in.

"You let _Snape_ go looking for Remus? Why didn't you go with him?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head and replied, "How? He Disapparated, didn't he? Besides, there wasn't anything I could do." _ Doesn't Ron remember what happened the last time I tried to rescue someone? _

"But Snape?" Ron continued. "Maybe if it was Moody, or anyone else. How'd you know he wasn't going to turn Remus in? Snape hates him. You know that!"

"Then why make the wolfsbane potion for him, Ron? If Snape wanted to hurt Remus, he could."

"Snape's a spiteful git, Harry. He'd turn Remus over to the Death Eaters just for laughs. _And_ Remus was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had. Not to mention that he hates you almost as much as You-Know-Who does, and he knows you like Remus. Seems to me Snape's got a lot of reasons to betray him."

"So Remus can be tortured into telling Voldemort everything?" Harry asked.

"Exactly! What does he care? It's not like Snape likes anyone," Ron replied.

"Geez, Ron!" Ginny interrupted. "You really are bloody thick, aren't you. If Professor Snape turned in Remus, he'd be as good as dead once You-Know-Who found out Snape's gone traitor."

"Great way for Snape to get back in good with the Death Eaters, though. Say he was spying on us the whole time."

Ginny rolled here eyes and her older brother, and Harry chose to stay out of the conversation. "Mum and Dad don't think You-Know-Who is very forgiving about his Death Eaters keeping secrets from him. Besides, it would only take a bit of Veritaserum and they'd know Snape was really on our side."

"If he really is on our side, that is." Ron said.

"You really are being stupid, aren't you?" Ginny muttered.

"Look at how he treats Harry," Ron went on, and Harry jumped at the mention of his name. "The only people who hate Harry as much as Snape does are Death Eaters and You-Know-Who. He resents that Harry keeps surviving no matter how hard they try to kill him. Why _ else _ would he hate Harry so much?"

Harry kept silent. He knew he should not answer that. Not right now, and maybe not ever. Ron mistook Harry's silence as agreement and smirked.

"Let's check on Remus, okay?" Harry changed the subject, and the two siblings quickly forgot their argument.

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Later that day, after the Weasleys were satisfied that Remus would be fully recovered by evening, the group spent several fruitless hours trying to unearth the Order's latest plans. Something was in the works, that much was certain. Hardly an hour passed without someone leaving or returning, though all the adults insisted on being tight lipped.

"If only Hermione were here," Ron lamented after the trio had retreated to the library.

"Oh?" Harry grinned.

Ron punched Harry's arm and explained, "She's always the one who puts this stuff together. She'd know how to figure out what's going on. I hate being in the dark."

Ginny scrunched her nose up in thought. Her eyes lit up as she said, "Well, we can get her here easily enough. They're up to something, right?" Harry and Ron nodded. "And whatever it is, it'll likely upset You-Know-Who, right?" More nods. "So just tell Mum that you're worried about her. The Death Eaters can't find us or Harry here, but what's keeping them from going after her? Her parents are Muggles; they can't even protect her."

"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed.

"Bloody devious, Sis," Ron said. "George and Fred would be proud."

"She's right, too," Harry added. "I should have thought of that before. They should have thought of it, too. I wonder if there are any protections on Hermione's house."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Ron grinned. "Let's go talk to Mum before she leaves again."

Ginny shook her head. "Not us. Harry should go alone. Mum doesn't trust us."

Harry gave the girl a smile as he headed out to find Mrs. Weasley. They may have another evil genius in the making, and with the twins gone, Harry was sure they needed someone to take their place.

Forty-five minutes later, Hermione had owled that she could be packed and ready in no time. Mrs. Weasley did not want to worry her parents, so she simply sent a letter explaining that Harry was visiting, and would she like to come for a little stay, too? An hour after that, Hermione's trunk was next to Ginny's in one of the second floor bedrooms, and the group, now a foursome, had their heads together.

"So." Hermione cut right to the subject at hand. "What's going on? The letter said it was just for a visit, but if we're here, it must mean they want to keep us safe."

Harry let Ron fill Hermione in on what had occurred over the past day. The day had been something of a blur, and Harry still needed time to digest some of the things he had been thinking about. When Hermione heard of Ginny's plan to get her here, she commented, "I bet George and Fred would be proud."

"Somehow," Ginny replied, "that sounded better when Ron said it earlier." Harry chuckled, Ginny giggled, and Ron shrugged.

"That's Hermione," Ron explained. "She never did appreciate the twins. Got to admit, though, they did get us out of some tight spots.

"And into even more spots, thank you." Hermione's voice went up in pitch as she went into her lecture mode. Ron's eyes went blank; Harry knew Ron usually ignored her when she started in on one of her lessons. "There are rules for a reason, after all, and breaking them for the sake of breaking them is not what responsible wizards do. They may not have cared if they were expelled, but what about the other people that got into trouble with them? Honestly..."

Harry wasn't sure why her words annoyed him so much, but her tone set him on edge. "Really, Hermione. We've broken enough rules ourselves. How many times have we been out after curfew? How many rules, hell, how many _ laws _ did we break last month?"

Hermione blinked. "That's different, Harry! We had to do those things. George and Fred were just playing jokes. They never saved anyone's life by filling the boy's dorm with purple flobberworms."

"They never killed anyone doing it either." The words fell into the room, leadened with the weight of Harry's soft voice. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry cut her off as he stood up, "I have some things I need to think about."

Harry knew his words stung though he had not meant them to. He was not accusing her or Ron of anything. It had been his own actions that night that led to Sirius's death. Before he pulled the door closed behind him, he offered in apology, "I am glad you're here, Hermione."

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The four students shared a subdued breakfast the following morning. Ron made a few attempts at conversation, but both Hermione and Harry seemed lost in their thoughts, and Ginny was busy writing yet another letter to Dean. Finally, Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen and Hermione whispered, "I spoke to Hagrid this morning. He'll be home today. I'm going to try to talk to him. I bet I can get him to tell us everything that's been happening."

"Brilliant," Ron replied. "See? I knew Hermione would get the job done. Harry's been here almost two days and hasn't found out anything."

Initially, Harry kept silent. He did not like the idea of tricking the giant into telling secrets. Yes, in the past the group had found out some very interesting things from Hagrid's loose tongue. But usually that information just came out when Hagrid did not expect it to. Purposely leading him to betray his promises of secrecy seemed dishonest. And dangerous. If Hagrid was trying to keep information from them, it was likely to try to keep the young wizards out of harm's way.

Though he knew it would do no good, Harry spoke up. "Maybe we shouldn't bother Hagrid."

"How else will we find out what's been happening? It's been three weeks since Malfoy and the rest were arrested. Voldemort is still out there somewhere. We have to get information somehow," Hermione countered.

"Do we?" Harry asked. Ron and Hermione looked at him, puzzled, as Ginny put down her quill. "Why do we have to know everything? No, why do _ you _ have to know everything, Hermione? Can't we just leave well enough alone? You can't bear not knowing something, but these kinds of secrets put people in danger. Let's just try to enjoy the summer and let the adults handle Voldemort."

"You're just scared, Harry," Hermione said. "After what happened with Sirius, it makes sense that you're afraid to act. But you needn't worry, as long as you don't go running off without us. After all, if you'd listened to me last time, instead of insisting on going to the Department of Mysteries. . ." Hermione left the last unsaid, though they all knew what she had intended to say. _ If you'd listened to me, Sirius would still be alive. _

Furious, Harry rose to explode at the girl. _ So, the whole world should just let Hermione make all the decisions? She would love that._ Rather than yelling, though, Harry sat back down. "That's it, isn't it?" Harry asked. "You don't mind running off to save someone, unless it's someone else's idea. It's okay to act the hero as long as we're listening to you? It drives you crazy to think that someone may be making a decision without checking with you first."

"That is not what I said!" Hermione said shrilly. "I just meant that if you hadn't stopped those lessons, Voldemort would never have been able to trick you. And I told you how important those lessons were."

Harry shook his head and interrupted her, "Yes, you did. So did Sirius and Remus. So did Dumbledore. So did Snape, for that matter, until he stopped giving me the lessons. And no, I won't tell you why he stopped. So maybe it's all Snape's fault. He had a good reason for stopping my lessons, though, and I don't blame him for it. Besides, I could have told Dumbledore about it, and he could have made Snape keep teaching me, but I didn't. So maybe it is my fault. But Dumbledore had a few things he didn't tell me. And if I knew them, maybe I wouldn't have been fooled. So maybe it's Dumbledore's fault. But Sirius knew he wasn't supposed to go out in public, and he went anyway because he was worried about me. So maybe it's Sirius's fault.

"Maybe I really do crave the attention. Maybe I really do want to be a hero. Maybe it's your fault for helping me find the Philosopher's Stone, and the basilisk, and for going with me into the Screaming Shack that night. Maybe if you hadn't, I never would have thought I could save Sirius. Maybe it's everyone's fault."

Harry held his head in his hands as weeks of struggle and thought spilled from his lips. "All I know is that I did what I thought was right. And if you say that you didn't think we were doing the right thing by going to the Department of Mysteries, then you're either a liar, or you're not the person I thought you were."

For once, Hermione was silent. "There's only one person to blame for Sirius's death. A lot of people made mistakes, but none of those mistakes would have mattered if it wasn't for Voldemort. It was his plan all along, and it's his fault. And now I have one more reason to want him dead.

"You were right about one thing, though, Hermione. I shouldn't be running off trying to save people, and from now on, I'm not going to. Not because I'm afraid. I've lost my family twice now, and I know when I die I'll see them again. But I'm done thinking that I can save the world. I can't, not alone. No one can. Have you noticed that everyone in the Order knows what the others are doing? They aren't spying on each other and going on secret missions without telling each other. And if they're not telling us stuff, it's because we don't need to know. They don't need our help–not yet. But one day they will. So we can either act like we're still first years and pretend we're better and smarter than everyone else, or we can try to be ready for when they _ do_ need us."

"That's ridiculous, Harry!" Hermione answered. "Whenever we do talk to an adult, they ignore us! They keep trying to protect us, even though we've come out on top against things that most wizards never dream of having to fight. Are you really going to sit around until you graduate and just watch as Voldemort kills off whomever he pleases? If you do that, then you aren't the person _ I_ thought _ you_ were."

"So which is it, Hermione?" Harry asked. "Do we fight even when others are telling us not to, or do we find Dumbledore and McGonagall and ask them their advice? That is what you wanted to do when I had those visions, isn't it? No, I think I was right the first time. You only want to take matters into your own hands when it's your idea. When it's someone else's, then it's time to follow the rules."

Once again, Harry stood up and walked from the room before Hermione could reply. Judging by the volume and pitch of her voice coming from the kitchen, Harry decided that walking out was certainly a better idea than bearing the brunt of her righteous anger. He did feel a bit of guilt at leaving Ron and Ginny there, but the feeling passed quickly. Ron's problem was not that he hated decisions made by someone else, he never seemed to make decisions at all. And Ginny could probably sneak out once Hermione's tantrum reached full pitch.

Upstairs, Harry had almost made it to his room when Snape's door opened quickly from across the hall. "Ah, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice seems particularly chilly this morning. "Enjoying a long breakfast, are we? Have you already forgotten about your lessons?" Hermione's muffled voice was still audible as Harry stammered an apology. Snape had been gone all of yesterday, and Harry had not known the teacher had returned. "Perhaps Miss Granger would be in a better mood if you explained that you not being graded, and she is not missing out on an opportunity to study for a test."

Still annoyed at the girl, Harry chuckled at the Potion Master's comment. Snape raised an eyebrow at the response, but said nothing.

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Snape led Harry to the library for the day's lesson. The room was set up as it had been the day before, with one exception. A second Pensieve sat on the table beside the one Snape had used earlier. "Sit," Snape commanded, and Harry settled into a chair across from the instructor. Harry thought about bringing up the feelings that had led to the abrupt end of yesterday's practice, but thought better of it. Snape had not taken well to Harry's apologies in the past, and by now he knew that the teacher was not the type of person to enjoy bringing up such fleeting nonsense as emotions.

"From now on, you will be using this Pensieve before we begin," Snape said. "Pay attention as I explain its use." In a quarter hour, Harry was shown how to focus on a specific memory and extract it using his wand, just as he had seen Snape doing in the past. As Harry took a turn, Snape cautioned him. "Be careful what you remove." Harry expected yet another jab, waiting for the man to explain that Harry had little enough in his mind to risk losing anything, but Snape simply said, "You are completely removing the memory. While it is in the Pensieve, you will have no knowledge of the event at all. Memories spread over time, as you remember reacting to the memory and so on. Older memories are so deeply ingrained in who you are that even if you forget the event, you still remember how it made you feel. But newer memories are not connected to anything."

Harry did not understand what Snape was saying, and his confusion must have shown on his face as Snape snapped, "If you remove the memory of Black's death, you will stop mourning him. You will believe, while the memory is in the Pensieve, that he is alive. When you put the memory back, it will be as if you had just learned of his death. While I hardly care how you react after I no longer need to be here, you will also lose the understanding of why you need to learn Occlumency and I do not have the time to keep reminding you. So pick something else to forget for now." Harry nodded in response, and chose to pluck the image of Aunt Marge blowing up. At least he could expect a chuckle when he remembered it. Snape watched him and nodded shortly when Harry succeeded in removing the entire thread without breaking it and ending up with vague ideas about his aunt floating away.

"That will do," Snape said as Harry returned his memory to its proper place. "Now, Potter, listen very carefully to my instructions. I am Professor Snape. I have taught you Occlumency before, and I will continue to do so at Headmaster Dumbledore's orders." Confused, Harry was about to tell the instructor that he knew very well who Snape was and what they were doing in the library, but Snape continued. "Now, you will remove every memory you have of me, except what I just told you, and what very little you managed to retain from our previous lessons. You are to only retain memories that are directly related to Occlumency. The _ only _ thing you need to remember about the Pensieve is how to restore your memories. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. _ So that is where he was yesterday, _ Harry thought. _ He went to Hogwarts to get the other Pensieve. _ Harry was unsure how it would feel to have almost no memories of Snape's constant insults. But he was certain it could only have a positive effect on his studies.


	4. Chapter 4

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 4

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As he began removing Snape from his memory, Harry had been unsure how he would feel after the morning's Occlumency practice. Now, two hours later, with memories returned and Snape heading to his quarters, Harry still was not sure how he felt. He left the library to find Ron and Hermione, hoping Hermione would forget about the morning's quarrel so he could discuss what had happened. He could not tell them everything, of course, but he was confused about the Potions Master and needed someone to talk to. Hogwarts's brightest student did give good advice when asked, after all, though Harry was getting fed up with Hermione's penchant for giving advice that was unwanted and unneeded.

He found Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the girls' room, heads together in quiet conversation. Hermione looked frustrated.

"Well, Harry," Hermione said as the young wizard entered, "you'll be happy to know we didn't get the chance to learn anything from Hagrid. He left almost as soon as you stormed out of the kitchen. But we'll get him when he comes back. I don't know why you're so willing to be left in the dark, but eventually you'll be glad that I'm here to find out what's happening. Trust me."

Harry kept silent, realizing he'd been doing a lot of that lately. Hermione must have mistaken his silence for agreement, or at least acquiescence, and let the subject go. After a few moments, Harry was just about to bring up Snape when Mrs. Weasley interrupted the group.

"Ron, Hermione, I just received an owl from Neville's grandmother. She's invited you both to come visit Neville. She asked for Harry to come, too, of course, but it's far too dangerous for him to leave here until Professor Snape's satisfied with his progress."

Aside from the fact that Snape would likely never be satisfied with anything Harry did, nothing about what Mrs. Weasley said rang true, and even her cheerful smile seemed a bit too cheerful. Even Ginny, who did not know Neville's grandmother as well as the others, seemed skeptical.

"The Grangers agreed, so I told her you'd both love to go. I'm sure Neville would love some company, and after his help last month he's certainly earned it. Headmaster Dumbledore thinks it's safe enough, as you'll be out of the way, and I'll be having the clock brought from the Burrow so we can keep an eye Ron at least. We'll leave as soon as you've packed for the week." Leaving no time for anyone to argue or question her, Mrs. Weasley stepped from the room.

"What was _ that _ all about?" Ron asked the question they'd all been thinking.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked in reply. "They're trying to keep us apart. It didn't take them long to realize they can't hide anything from us. They're probably worried we'll get Harry into some kind of trouble." She rolled her eyes. Hermione was right, of course, and they all knew it. Most likely, Mrs. Weasley had written to Mrs. Longbottom. Harry could not imagine that overbearing woman inviting anyone over.

"Well, you have to go," Harry said. While me may be annoyed with Hermione lately, he did not want to see his two best friends leaving for a week without him. Sure, Ginny would still be here, but that was different. Ron looked like he was about to argue. "It doesn't matter _why_ they're sending you away, Ron, your mum's right. We never would have made it out of there that night without Neville, even though he probably wouldn't believe that. He shouldn't be alone with his grandmother all summer if we can help it."

"Easy for you to say, Harry, you don't have to go. Who knows what kinds of exciting things will happen while we're gone?"

"Like summer school with Snape?" Harry asked and chuckled.

"I think I'd prefer that than a week with Longbottom's grandma."

"But is it really safe?" Ginny asked.

"Well, if I'm kidnaped by Death Eaters or something, the clock will know. And I'm not letting myself get kidnaped without Hermione. She'll bore Voldemort to death with questions!" said Ron. Hermione simply rolled her eyes with a patient grin.

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An hour later, Harry and Ginny were alone as the Weasleys rushed Ron and Hermione out of the house. Ginny may not be Hermione or Ron, but after last year, Harry had learned she was a good compromise between the two. Not quite as bookish as Hermione, and not quite as impulsive as Ron, with a bit of the twins thrown in too, of course.

"Hey, Ginny?" Harry said. "What do you think of Professor Snape?"

Ginny scrunched up her nose in distaste. "Ugh. I can't stand him! The way he treats you!"

Harry chuckled. "There's that Gryffindor loyalty."

"More like Weasley loyalty. We've practically adopted you, in case you hadn't noticed."

The mention of adoption made Harry cringe inside. That was the kind of thing he had spoke to Sirius about. Ginny immediately realized her mistake and reached out to touch Harry's hand. "I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean..."

"It's okay, Ginny," he said as he gave her hand a squeeze and released it. "Really it is. Anyway, I don't want to talk about that. I don't even want to think about it now. I've got enough in my head as it is." Ginny nodded. "Forget how he treats me, though. I'm not in your potions class, after all."

Ginny thought for a few minutes before replying. "He's not too bad, I guess. We take potions with Ravenclaw. I hear he's worse on the Hufflepuffs my year when Slytherin's around." Harry knew all about Snape's favoritism. "But Ron's told me what he's like in your class, and I think he's a _lot_ worse because you're there. He's still mean but not so vicious, I guess." She seemed almost apologetic.

"I sort of assumed that," Harry said.

"Why does he hate you so much?" Ginny asked. Harry had expected the question, but he shifted uncomfortably when she finally asked it.

"I. . . I can't really say," Harry replied. "I saw something I shouldn't have, and it explained why. I can't tell you what it was. It's private, I guess. Between Snape and. . ." Harry trailed off, then shrugged. "Anyway, I don't really blame him for the way he feels." Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"But he knows I saw," Harry continued. "So now he hates me even more, I guess." Harry explained how his Occlumency lessons had been going, and how today's lesson had been different. "It's bloody strange looking at Snape and having no memory at all of him. I knew he was a teacher, and I knew _why_ I didn't remember him, since I left in the memory of him telling me to forget him, if that made sense."

"So, what did you think of him?" Ginny asked.

"Well, I didn't really think anything of him. I trusted him, since I remembered Dumbledore telling me he'd teach me. Plus, I knew he was a spy for the Order, since I could still remember what he did for Remus the other night. But it was like we'd never met, or like. . ." Harry searched for an example. "Like someone who works at a shop, I guess. You sort of know who they are because you shop there. Maybe you know their name, and you've talked to them a little bit. But you don't really think anything about them one way or the other."

"I guess that makes sense," Ginny said. "What was he like?"

"That's the odd thing," Harry explained. "He wasn't like he usually is. I guess he was more like, well, how he is with your class. The practice certainly wasn't easy, but usually he makes everything so much harder just by being so nasty."

"None of his famous comments, then?"

"Well, yes, actually, but I didn't really mind them. Maybe they weren't as mean as before, I guess, or maybe they didn't seem as bad since I couldn't remember all the years' worth from before. And one time, I even. . ." Harry frowned. He did not want to say what he had done. Not because it was anything bad, it was just so bloody odd for him to react that way to _Snape_. "I laughed!" Harry threw up his arms, and Ginny giggled at Harry's distress.

"What did he say?" Ginny leaned forward.

"He'd asked me a few questions at the beginning to make sure I hadn't forgotten too much. I still had to remember my other lessons, after all. And I said something about needing to protect my mind from Voldemort. Then Snape said I should be learning this from my Uncle, since no wizard in England could find a thought in the head of a Dursley. And I started laughing! But now, I just think it was an odd thing to say."

Ginny asked, "Why would he say that? Maybe something you'd forgotten about?"

"Well, I'd remember it now, wouldn't I? He did say a few things that only made sense after I had my memories back. And a few of those I'd thought were funny at first, but now I wouldn't laugh at them. But he knows insulting the Dursleys isn't going to get me mad." Harry stammered incredulously. "I think it was just a joke!"

"Well," Ginny said, "that can't be a good sign." The young wizards shared a small laugh and decided that any change in Snape's mood could only be an improvement. Especially with the mansion being empty most of the time, except for Harry and Ginny, and Snape, whose movements were necessarily limited.

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The following day's Occlumency lesson brought another surprise for Harry.

"Mr. Potter, as you are not progressing as poorly as initially expected, Headmaster Dumbledore has requested that we add another dimension to your instruction," Snape said as Harry entered the library. "Occlumency is merely one part of the whole. In order to better control what we so forgivingly call your mind, you must also learn some of the art of the Legilemens."

Harry blinked, and Snape continued. "Sit down, Potter." The Potions Master settled into his chair and crossed his legs. "As with any new course of study, there are ground rules that students are expected to follow. You, Mr. Potter, are no exception, no matter what the rest of the world may believe."

"Sir, I would never-"

"You are forbidden from practicing Legilemency in any form outside of my instruction. You are forbidden from practicing Legilemency on anyone but me, here in this room. Normally, formal instruction in the art would include study of physical signs of stress, deception and emotion. You will not be learning that. We are only interested in the magical and mental aspects, and even then, only a small scope. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." Clearly, they would be focusing on how Voldemort entered Harry's mind.

"There is one final rule." Snape leaned forward in his chair and held Harry in a heartless gaze. "If you find yourself in the Dark Lord's mind again, you will _ not _ use any form of Legilemency whatsoever. You are to rely solely upon Occlumency to mask your presence and remove yourself from his thoughts immediately. If I discover that you have violated any of these rules, I will cast the Obliviate spell upon you myself. And if I am given cause to even suspect that you have actively attempted to gain access to the Dark Lord's mind, even Dumbledore will be unable to protect you from me. If the Dark Lord does not drive you mad first."

Harry swallowed and nodded. Why in the world would he want to get into Voldemort's mind? Snape's threat was nothing compared to the memories Harry still harbored of his past forays into the dark wizard's twisted mind.

Once both Pensieves were full of milky threads, Harry discovered that learning Occlumency without Legilemency was like learning Defense Against the Dark Arts without every talking about curses. They were opposite sides of the same coin. And while Snape provided no practical instruction for the offensive tactics, he took the time to explain what he was doing and why it was effective. About halfway through the lesson, Snape was acting the inquisitor, attempting to discover where Hermione and Ron had gone, and Harry, so far, had successfully kept the mock secret.

"Were I a complete stranger, you could probably hold me off for some time," Snape said. "But The Boy Who Lived is at a disadvantage. While most of the wizarding world is a stranger to you, you are no stranger to anyone who can read a newspaper." With that introduction, Snape began to assault Harry's mind with a series of faces and names. The face of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley flashed before his eyes. Lucius Malfoy, looking smug. Luna Lovegood. Ginny. Ron and Hermione. Bellatrix Lestrange. Ron and Hermione again, this time cowering before Voldemort. His parent lying dead at Voldemort's feet. Harry focused inwardly and allowed the images to pass over him. In the past few days, Snape had tried similar tricks. Harry had learned to ignore them all. Some were real, others imaginary, all were supposed to shake Harry or cause him to react. Sirius yelled at Kreacher, and Harry stood firm. Neville appeared, and Harry turned his attention elsewhere, lest he show some signs. More images flashed through his consciousness. The Dursleys, a wizard he had never met, Draco Malfoy, Cho, Seamus, Neville again. Dumbledore. An unknown woman. Fudge. Neville again. Neville again. Harry focused harder on ignoring his friend's face and keeping his secret safe. "And there it is."

"But I-"

"Your complete lack of reaction to Mr. Longbottom is telling."

"I didn't react to any of them, just as you told me not to."

"That is not quite accurate, Mr. Potter. Your reaction to the others was casual indifference, as it should have been. You clearly ignored Mr. Longbottom, however, and that is noticeable to the trained mind." Harry furrowed his brow, and Snape took a different approach. "Imagine entering a room of people. Your eyes glance over the crowd, but you refrain from looking in the direction of one person. That omission can be more easily noted than if your eyes had passed over them as the rest."

Harry wasn't entirely sure that the Professor hadn't focused on Neville on purpose. He knew, after all, where Harry's friends were. Snape pressed his point.

"When I showed you other faces and gave you other names, you considered them briefly, casually, and let your attention wander from them. You did not divulge anything. You reacted the same to Dumbledore and Fudge as you did to the people you have never seen, for which I give you credit. But you completely shut yourself down when it was Neville. As you know, you can never really shut your consciousness down for more then a moment. That is the key."

"So, it's almost like acting. I need to act like Neville is no more and no less important than anything else."

Snape nodded and said, "Again." The Potions Master began another series of attacks on Harry's mind. The onslaught was interrupted by the slam of the library's door as it banged open.

"Professor Snape, Harry!" Ginny rushed into the room. She grasped a crumpled parchment in her shaking hand and her eyes were wide. Her breathing was heavy and her face red.

Harry pushed himself from his chair, and Snape asked coolly from where he was sitting, "What is it, Weasley? You were told not to interrupt our lessons."

"Ron. Hermione. Neville. Death Eaters." The girl looked down at at the torn parchment still clutched in her hand and began smoothing it against her thigh. "This just came by owl. Pigwidgeon may be dead. Remus took a sleeping potion an hour ago."

Harry reached for the parchment, but Snape pushed him aside and grabbed the letter. Harry could not see much of the writing in the taller man's hand, but he recognized Hermione's handwriting, though the letter was unusually messy for the girl.

"It seems, once again, your friends have managed to get cornered. And once again I must save another inept hero." He turned to Harry. "Stay here with Miss Weasley. If anyone returns, tell them to follow. I will try to find the brats, but its quite likely that I will not be in a position to help them as I was with Lupine."

Harry barely had time to nod dumbly before Snape swept from the room. "Ginny? What did the letter say?" Ginny was still shaking and her eyes darted about the room. "Ginny?"

Her head snapped around to face Harry and here eyes focused on the boy. "We have to go help them!" She grabbed Harry's sleeve and pulled him to the door, but Harry held firm.

"Ginny, Professor Snape is going to help them. We can't do anything for them if there are Death Eaters after them. What did the letter say?"

Ginny let go of his robes and ran from the room. Harry took a deep breath and followed her down the stairs and into the parlor. "Ginny, please. What did the letter say? I can't help if I don't know what's going on," he said from the doorway.

Ginny knocked a porcelain statue off the mantle as she grabbed the box laying next to it. Harry winced as the white shards flew across the floor, then he was in the air himself, jumping to grab hold of the girl as he noticed the box of floo powder in her hand. He even managed to feel her cotton robes in his hand before she disappeared into the fireplace.

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Snape cursed as he stared across the clearing as the gathering before him. A collection of some very notable wizards milled about the center of the village here. Snape imagined that the combined worth of the families represented would amount to more than the entire town was worth, land and all, by several orders of magnitude. He knew them all, of course, and he knew whose business they were on today. Many of them had bowed before him in the Dark Lord's presence. The professor knew he could walk into the group right now and send them all away, claiming the honor of the kill for his own. But that would be suicide unless he followed through and delivered the bodies of the three students to Voldemort.

So instead, he waited. He was a patient man, as all Potions Masters must be. Eventually, an opportunity would present itself, most likely in the form of Arthur or Molly Weasley. For the most part, he would be useless. That was a feeling he was having more and more lately. In fact, had it been anyone but Remus the other night, Snape thought, he probably would have enjoyed the rescue mission if for no other reason than the distraction it provided.

The sound of someone running behind him drove Snape deeper into the shadows. A flash of red hair and black robes introduced the Weasley girl. _ Of course she hasn't the sense to stay put._ Harry should have tied her to a chair. She was still out of sight of the gathering Snape had been watching, and he made to silence her before she could cause more problems when she fell suddenly, hit from behind by a flash of red light.

Snape had his wand in hand and slowly made his way from behind the wood pile he had been hiding behind. The house he was using for protection was only yards from a dense copse of trees, and he waited silently for the girl's attacker to show himself. Within seconds, a form detached itself from the shadows of the underbrush and moved quickly towards Ginny. Snape prepared a hex of his own, but stopped again as another form flitted from the trees and ran quietly behind the other wizard.

The trailing wizard pulled out a wand and Harry Potter's voice, unmistakable, caused Snape to flinch. _ Must he always shout his spells? _

_"Petrificus totalus!" _

With their attacker neutralized, Harry ran and knelt beside Ginny. Snape pulled a hood over his exposed features and rushed first to the prone dark wizard's. Once he turned the petrified form onto its back, he recognized the woman as a lesser underling of Voldemort's. Sent as a scout, no doubt, as she did not rank high enough to share in the honor of killing Potter's friends. Her eyes did not move, a testament to the power of the boy's spell. Snape knew, though, that she could see him, and that was unacceptable. In a swift motion, the former Death Eater produced a knife and drew it across her neck. The woman was unable to even whimper as her blood pooled around her shoulders. Satisfied, Snape strode to Ginny and Harry. He scooped the girl into his arms and said, "Follow. Quickly."

Harry's eyes shone with tears. "How could you-"

"We are at war. This is not a game, nor is it a formal duel. It was her life or mine, and I hold my life a bit more dear. There are other lives at stake, still. Now, follow." Trusting the boy to obey, Snape made his way back to the safety of his shadows.

"You were told to stay behind, Potter."

"Yes, sir, but Ginny used the floo to get into one of the homes here. No one saw us," he said as Snape glared. "I couldn't let her run around here, so I followed."

"You should have let her get caught. A few hours with the Dark Lord will teach her to think before she acts." Snape turned his attention back to the group of wizards and took another count. Seven dark wizards, all of whom, he knew, had used at least two of the Unforgivable Curses in the past, and all eager to ingratiate themselves to Voldemort.

"She knows who you are," Harry said.

"What are you talking about?" _ She's dead, she knows nothing worth telling any more._

"Ginny knows you're a spy, Professor. You didn't know she followed you, so you wouldn't know to look for her. If she'd been captured, she wouldn't be able to keep your secret."

Snape's eyes narrowed. The boy was right, dammit all. It was dumb luck that he had seen Ginny being attacked by just the one wizard. If she had wandered into the group on the other side of the clearing, Snape's position as spy, and his life, would be worthless. "Very well, then. We must act quickly. The Death Eaters are waiting for something, or someone, before they storm that cottage over there."

"We? But, what about the others? Shouldn't we wait until some of the aurors get here?"

"Used up all your reason for the day, have you? Who will tell them where we are?" Harry's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "I will not expose myself, but I do not believe that will be needed." Harry's cooperation was assumed. The boy had spent the past five years running off in aid of his dimwit friends. Harry would need to deal with what he had seen eventually, but for now Snape was keeping his attention fixed on Granger and Weasley.

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Snape watched Harry's lithe form disappear into the trees as the boy made his way around the clearing. Snape headed in the opposite direction to find a closer place to hide. He would not have much time to act, and any delay would put everyone at risk. Harry had more distance to cover and some of that would be in the Death Eaters' line of sight, so the older man again called upon his patience. He would have preferred to do this without Harry. Seven to one, though, were not the odds he would have asked for. There would be no way for Snape to take down all of them without at least one recognizing him and escaping, so Harry had to act as a distraction. Hell, he would have preferred to sit back and watch someone else do it. But options were limited. Weasley and Granger would be unable to keep his secret under questioning; his life was at risk as long as theirs were. Harry was resourceful, though, and Snape was as certain as he could be that the boy would escape to the same cabin from which he had arrived.

Finally, from the other side of the surrounded cabin, Snape saw a flicker of movement. One of the death eaters closest to the trees toppled silently to the ground. Snape had instructed Harry to use the Stupefy spell, as that would prevent the target from recognizing him. Once the rest of the wizards realized one of their number had been attacked, they turned towards the woods but held their ground. Snape waited for Harry's next move.

The Death Eaters certainly did not anticipate seeing their Dark Lord's greatest enemy walking casually towards them, but that is exactly what confronted them. As one, they raised their wands to attack, but Harry was prepared. "Expectro Patronum!" Harry's stag charged into the group and scattered the wizards. Before they could regroup, Harry was disappearing into the woods. All discipline disappeared as the temptation of capturing Harry Potter for Voldemort took over. Only a single guard remained behind. Snape gave him credit. Harry was on the run, and the teens inside were a sure bet. Or seemed to be.

Snape stood and hit the wizard with a curse that sent him flying several feet in the air. At the cabin, he peered into a window and surveyed the interior. Several adults surrounded Weasley, Hermione and Longbottom, as expected. The Potions Master drank a mouthful of a bitter liquid from one of his many hidden vials. Wasting no time, he pulled another bottle from his robes and threw it through the glass window.

By the time he blasted the door open and entered the cabin, Snape was the only person conscious for a hundred yards. Quick use of the Mobilicorpus spell had the three students outside, and a portkey put the group in an alley not far from Grimmauld Place. Snape charmed the immobile trio to be invisible to Muggles and floated them quietly through the streets. By now, Harry should be back in the parlor. If not, well, Snape would deal with that if he found the house empty. Better to focus on slipping through the streets unobserved.


	5. Chapter 5

Unforgivable Promises

Author's Note: Thanks again to all my reviewers. I got a bit inspired, so this chapter's following 4 pretty quickly.

Aethen

Chapter 5

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Remus woke silently. Snape's sleeping potion had been timed to wear off shortly after the last Skele-Gro potion had finished its work. He had lost bones before but did not remember the joints being so painful coming in. Maybe he was getting old. His best friend's son was nearly a man, which made him, technically, almost old enough to be a grandfather. With that disturbing realization in mind, Remus dressed and headed out of his room. Some food and conversation were needed to quell that depressing line of thought.

Remus had just discovered that the house was empty when the front door opened. Harry's robes were torn and he had black smudges on his face and hands. He was leaning against the doorframe and holding Ginny in trembling arms. Remus grabbed the girl; his newly regrown arm faltered under the weight, but he managed to set her in a chair. "Harry, what-"

With Ginny in Remus' care, Harry closed the door behind him and fell to the floor. Now dealing with two unconscious teens, Remus examined Ginny and sensed lingering magic on her. Not knowing what spell she had been hit with, Remus went to examine Harry's battered form. A large bruise on his neck surely traveled down to his back, and the boy was clearly exhausted, but Remus could find no lingering spells on him and was satisfied that this was not the worst condition Harry had ever been in.

"Harry! Harry! Wake up!" Remus put his hand on Harry's shoulder to shake him but thought better of it when he remembered the bruise forming on his back. Instead, he pulled him into a sitting position and propped him up against the wall. "Harry! What happened? Where is everyone else?"

When the door opened again, Remus was just able to dodge it. Expecting the worst, Remus crouched low and readied his wand, but quickly stowed it when he discovered Snape floating Ron, Neville and Hermione into the foyer. "What the hell is going on?"

As if he hadn't heard Remus, Snape set the three students' bodies down and aimed his wand at Ginny. "Ennervate." Ginny began to stir, and Remus let out a long breath. "Miss Weasley will be fine. These three are sleeping–a potion of my own making. I have an antidote upstairs." Snape moved further into the house and closed the door behind him, revealing Harry still propped against the wall. Snape stared at the boy for a heartbeat. "He is breathing."

"Yes, he'll be okay, I think," Remus said. "It looks like he was hit with a few curses, but he's just bruised. No magical effects on him. A healing potion should have him good as new."

"Then I will fetch one as well." Snape's typically hurried pace took him upstairs and out of Remus's sight before he could be questioned about what had happened.

Ginny finally sat up, blinking and holding her head. When she saw her brother, she let out a yelp and fell to her knees next to him.

"He's going to be fine, Ginny," Remus said. "I don't know what happened, but they're sleeping. Professor Snape used a potion on them. He's getting the antidote now. Everything's okay." Ginny finally leaned back and Remus put an arm around her. "What happened?" She opened her mouth to answer but looked past him down the hallway where Snape was walking towards them holding several small vials. Annoyed that he could not seem to get any answers but still relieved that everyone seemed safe and suffering no permanent damage, Remus let the question die. Ginny should look after her brother and friends first. Snape seemed calm, so the danger must have passed.

That was the wrong assumption to make; Remus discovered that almost immediately. The sound of Snape's potions shattering on the floor was nearly drowned out by the twin screams of Snape himself and Harry. Ginny, wide-eyed, jumped up and Remus rushed to check on Harry. Harry was clutching his scar, now, and his scream and subsided into a whimpering sob. Snape had fallen against the wall and slid down it, mirroring Harry's posture from the other side of the foyer. But instead of his head, Severus was holding his arm. Remus knew all too well what the Potions Master bore beneath his robes on that arm. With no idea what to do for either of them, Remus focused on Ginny, who seemed caught between staying with her brother, going to Harry's side, or seeing if her professor needed her aid. "Ginny. Can you find the labels on the bottles Snape dropped?"

Ginny looked down the hall and said, "I think so."

"Good. Find out what the potions were, then go up to Snape's room and try to find more."

"What about. . .?" Her eyes fell on Harry, who was now moaning softly to himself.

"I don't know, Ginny. I don't know what to do for them. So let's take care of the ones that we can help, okay?"

Ginny nodded and ran upstairs. Looking back and forth between Harry and Snape, Remus wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close. At the contact, Harry pulled his hands from his face and looked around. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and his head jerked around as if startled by unheard sounds. When his gaze fell on Snape, Harry's eyes cleared and he grabbed Remus's arm.

"Remus. I can't see him!" Harry's voice was pitched high. "I can't see him! If I do, he'll see too!" He buried his head in Remus's arm.

"Who can't you see, Harry? There's no one here, just you and me, and Snape."

"Don't say his name! He might hear. I can't be here, Remus. I can't see him. He'll know he's here."

Remus's confusion forced Harry into a more lucid state. "You have to move us, Remus. Me or Sn– or him. I'm not the only one who can see what I see."

Remus cursed and let go of Harry. "Sorry, old boy, but this may hurt you more than you're hurting already," he said, then grabbed Snape's robes and dragged him down the hallway and out of Harry's sight. Several minutes later, Ginny returned, triumphantly carrying a healing potion and two bottles of the antidote for the others. Both Harry and Snape had gone quiet. Remus had no idea if that was a good sign.

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Harry woke with an all too common ache in his scar. He cracked his eyes open and quickly shut them again. The dim light of the room sent pain through to the back of his skull, where he was dismayed to discover another ache met it at the base of his neck. He had caught a glimpse of two figures across the room from him.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Harry recognized the voice as Dumbledore's. He considered telling the Headmaster that he was awake, but the thought of opening his eyes again, or even moving, turned his stomach. "That is not something to take lightly."

"Do I take anything lightly?" That voice, too, was unmistakable. Snape.

"No, Severus, but that is a problem for another day. I am concerned that-"

"I know what your concerns are, and I am telling you that there is no need to worry. I have administered this safely in the past."

"But is it really necessary?"

A grunt. "Let me review the situation. We have a mind under attack that is, at best, only partially Occluded. That attack is coming through a physical mark binding him to the Dark Lord. And we have a potion that is, as you have pointed out, quite dangerous if not administered by anyone but the most skilled masters. If you can find someone better suited to see to Mr. Potter, then by all means please send them in."

A sigh. "Of course, you are right, Severus. But I do hate feeling useless, especially where young Harry is concerned."

"You cannot save everyone, Albus."

"That may be, but I intend to die trying."

They lapsed into silence and Harry wondered if they were still in the room. He was considering another try at opening his eyes when he heard Snape near his bed. "The potion is a last resort and may not be necessary. I will only use it if I must."

"I trust your judgement, Severus." Dumbledore's voice was further away, and Harry thought he heard the creak of a door. "You will tell me when he wakes?"

Snape must have nodded, as Harry heard no reply, just the sound of the door closing. Minutes passed and the truth became clear. _ I can't sleep, everything hurts too much. _ But Snape may have a potion for that. And better to deal with the headache than risk whatever that potion Snape and Dumbledore were talking about using if he did not wake up.

Thankfully, the light in the room was dimmer now. A single candle shone from table near the door. Harry found Snape sitting nearby rolling a small bottle between his fingers.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter." Snape put the bottle back into his robes and reached for a mug that he gave Harry. Harry drank the thick liquid and his head and back immediately ached a good deal less.

"Thank you, Professor." Harry returned the mug and laid back into the pillow with a sigh. "Was that a healing potion, sir?"

Snape nodded. "I have more if you need them. It seems you did some quick thinking this morning."

Harry's foggy mind thought back on the morning's adventure. "Well, it was a guess, sir, that he'd realize I was there and try to get into my mind again."

"And did he?"

Harry frowned. "Yes. I tried to keep him out, but he was too strong. It hurt too much."

"There is no shame in failure, Harry. Not when a wizard of his power bends his will against yours."

"He hasn't gotten into your mind, though, has he sir?" Harry wasn't sure how he knew that, but he was pretty certain it was accurate. Everything still seemed so fuzzy.

"Not yet, no. But I have not given him reason to really try. I mask myself from his casual questioning, but should he ever turn his mind fully against mine, I will not survive." Snape turned to stare at Harry, who fought the urge to squirm under the gaze. "It seems he still has no reason to try. If you were experiencing the amount of pain through your scar that I was from my Mark, it is quite impressive that you had the presence of mind to warn Remus. Just in time, too, it seems."

"Are you sure, sir? It hurt so much, I kept fighting to Occlude my mind. I don't really know what he saw."

Snape nodded. "My pain stopped once the Dark Lord's attention turned to you. We were affected, I think, for different reasons."

"I don't understand. You don't always feel it when he's... like that?"

"No, what I felt, and what all others bearing the Mark no doubt felt, I felt because he desired it. He had just discovered of the failure to capture you and your friends. He wanted his displeasure known. Your inclusion in that was almost certainly unintentional. And far more intense."

"Are Ron and Hermione okay?" Harry struggled to sit up as he recalled more of what had happened.

"They are. Lay back and rest." Snape was staring at him again.

His concern for his friends sated, Harry asked, "More intense?"

"Your connection is far deeper than the Dark Mark. He would never allow anyone to have such a strong connection to his thoughts. That distance protects us from much of what you are forced to deal with. Also, it is rare for him to use the Mark that way. Normally, he prefers his punishments to be in person and specific." Snape continued to study him. "It had not occurred to me that being in your presence would put me in danger." Another pause. "Well done."

Harry's face grew warm. "Thank you, sir. But really, it doesn't take much effort for me to think about Voldemort entering my mind. It isn't exactly rare for me."

Snape stood and pulled another bottle from his robes. He turned the label so Harry could make out that it was another healing draught and placed it on the table. He strode to the door and opened in, then, with his hand resting on the knob, turned and gave Harry a final look. "Not rare at all."

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After a few hours of nightmare-filled sleep, Harry woke to find Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny at his bedside. Harry gave a quick recount of what had happened after Ginny was hexed and finished up with his dash to the small cabin where he and Snape had left Ginny. "I really got saved by dumb luck. I got hit with a hex that knocked me sideways just before a blasting curse blew up the door I'd been opening. I guess they weren't too close behind, though, because I managed to get Ginny and me into the floo before they came inside." His friends congratulated him on his part in their rescue, and Ginny thanked him again or coming after her. He was going to have to talk to her about running off like that, but for now, Ron's morbid curiosity insisted on seeing just how badly bruised Harry's back was.

"Cor!" Ron pushed Harry forward in the bed, making Harry wince in pain. "Your whole back is all black and green. What did they hit you with?"

"Beats me," Harry said. "I didn't get a chance to ask. But enough about me, how did you guys end up being cornered in the first place?"

"It was all Hermione's fault," Ron said, to which the young witch simply rolled her eyes. "She just had to visit that village because she thought she remembered reading about it somewhere."

"Well, I was right, wasn't I?" Hermione asked. She turned to Harry. "I can't remember where I read it, but that place was the site of one of the biggest battles between wizards of the Light and Death Eaters last time around. It's of great historical significance, and Neville's home wasn't too far away, so when his Gran left us alone, we decided to go."

"You mean you decided to go, and you dragged us with you," Ron said and got another eye roll.

"As if I had to threaten you. You wanted to go as much as I did. Probably just to get a chance to break some rules. Anyway, I bet Neville's glad we went, even if we did run into some Death Eaters, aren't you Neville?" The other boy turned red, but didn't reply. "It was amazing Harry. We were walking through the center of village when that creep Avery came out of nowhere. I don't know if he was following us or what-"

"Of course he was following us!" Ron waved his arms. "What else would he be doing there?"

Hermione continued as if Ron had said nothing. "Well, I grabbed Ron and called Neville's name, since he was a little bit away."

"No you didn't. I called Neville's name, didn't I Neville?"

Neville just turned a deeper shade of red. Harry took pity on him and said, "Well, it doesn't matter does it? Did Avery see you then?"

"Yeah, he did, but luckily a witch heard me," she said and shot a glare at Ron, "call Neville's name, and she pulled us into her cottage. Maybe Neville should tell the rest."

Neville shook his head; Hermione shrugged and Ron took over the story. "She knew Neville. Well, the whole town did, really. Turns out, that big battle? Well, it was Neville's parents against something like a dozen Death Eaters. The wizards there aren't all that powerful. Most of them can barely light a candle with magic, and a lot of the town is Muggle and squibs. So the Death Eaters thought it would be an easy fight. But then Neville's mom and dad showed up. They saved the whole town!" Neville was studying the brass candlestick next to Harry's bed. "But we didn't find that out till later. When we told her that Avery was after us, she called in all the wizards in town. They knew they couldn't win against one Death Eater, and once he realized that they were guarding us, called for reinforcements. But they didn't care. They said no Longbottom was going to get hurt while they were alive. Didn't they, Neville?"

Neville smiled and nodded. "I never knew any of that. Gran always said my parents were heros, but she never told me what they did. I guess I never really believed they did anything that important."

"I bet they did more than just that," Harry said. Neville gave up staring at the candlestick and looked up at Harry with a start. "This is probably going to come out wrong, and if it does, I'm sorry. But you know that I sometimes see what Voldemort's doing, and I can feel what he feels, too, right? So, I have a pretty good idea of what he does to people he's mad at. What he had done to your parents, that wasn't for saving just one village." Neville's eyes watered at the mention of his parents' torture. "I'm sorry, Neville. I didn't say that to upset you. It's just that, well, he only tried to kill my parents. That's what he usually did to wizards who fought against him. I bet there are hundreds of villages out there your parents saved, and that's why he hated them so much. I know that all came out wrong."

Neville smiled again. "No, it didn't. I know what you mean. Thank you, Harry." The boy laughed suddenly. "I just thought of something my Gran said once. We used to keep bees, and I was crying because one stung me when I was trying to get to the honey. She asked if I at least had one of the honeycombs, and I told her the bee stung me before I could get one. She called me a fool, and said, 'If you are going to get stung, you might as well get the honey too.' I guess if they had to. . . end up that way, it's better that they really drove him mad first."

Harry laughed too. He understood what Neville meant; he had come to the same realization, too. Plenty of wizards, back then and today, died as innocent bystanders. At least his parents and Neville's had had a chance to fight before Voldemort got to them. As hard as it was not having them around, he knew they had made a decision to help, and that was some comfort.

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Later, when Harry braved a backache to join everyone for dinner, he caught Snape as the Potions Master was about to leave for a gathering of Death Eaters. "Sir? If it's not too much trouble, perhaps I can have another potion for the pain before you go?"

Snape's lip curled. "Typical. I am not your servant, Potter, and unlike the rest of the world, I am not a member of your fan club. If you can't handle a little discomfort, then come find me when I'm in my room when I return. I have more important things to attend to."

Harry stared in silence at his professor. When the teens returned to Harry's room, he considered Snape's words. "What got into him? He told me I could ask him for another potion if I wanted it."

"Sure that wasn't a pain hallucination, Harry?" Ron asked, then quieted and Harry's frown. "Seriously, Harry that doesn't really sound like Snape, does it?"

"He did! He told me that when we were talking before. He said he was impressed with how I'd handled what happened with Voldemort, and then he said I could ask him if I needed any more of the potion he gave me. I don't know why you think that's so odd."

"What exactly happened, Harry? What did he say?" Hermione asked.

"We talked about how his mark is different than my scar. I guess he doesn't really see as much as I do with it, since Voldemort can control it. He was just being normal. I don't know why he was so nasty after dinner."

They all looked up at Harry, and Hermione stood up. "Harry? Did you ever get your memories back from the Pensieve? It's in the library?" Without waiting for an answer, she ran from the room. She returned with the silver artifact moments later. "I guess this one's yours. There were two, but the other was empty. Snape must have gotten his back after he was being nice to you."

"That sounds more like it," Ron said. "Turned back into a greasy git once he had his mind back."

Harry frowned at Ron and reached for the Pensieve. He glanced at the threads floating within, then up at Hermione.

"I didn't look into it. Don't worry." Hermione sat down heavily.

"That's not it," Harry said. It was a lie, but he felt bad that he didn't trust her. Of course, Hermione had never been above snooping in the past. No need to get her mad, though. "I'm just worried it's not the right one. Where was this one, next to the black or the brown chair?"

After Hermione's assurance that this Pensieve was indeed the one he had been using, Harry began to pluck his thoughts from the bowl and restore them to their proper place. The effect was disorienting, far more so this time than it had been in the past. None of these memories made any sense.

"Did he really try to get us expelled?"

Ron blinked at him. "When didn't he is the question? If you're worried that those aren't your memories, let me assure you, they are. He really is a wanker."

Harry forced a laugh and convinced himself to keep going. Once the Pensieve was empty, Harry felt like a fool asking Snape for help. He made a mental note to get his memories back in his head as soon as possible after the next lesson. Suddenly, the instructor's insults earlier were the only actions over the past day that made any sense at all. He needed to talk to someone, someone who knew everything, which meant Remus. He hated keeping his friends in the dark about what he had seen last year of Snape as a student, but for some reason he couldn't find himself to divulge that.

"I need to talk to Remus." Harry stood and headed to the door.

"Harry? What in the world is going on with you and Snape?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea. It's all just too weird. Listen, I really need to talk to Remus. Ginny knows what's going on." Ron and Hermione looked at Ginny, and even Neville seemed surprised that someone besides Harry's two best friend was in the know. "Well, you two weren't around, so I talked to her. You guys know I'm keeping something from you, and I still can't tell you what it is." Harry held up a hand as they both opened their mouths. "It's not important, really. I just can't say what it is. But Ginny can tell you what the lessons have been like. I'll be back later."

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Harry found Remus in the library, which seemed like an odd sign at best. He was alone, at least, and Harry closed the door behind him.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.

"Good as new." Remus grinned and shook his arm about wildly. "I should have asked for an extra long one to get stuff from high shelves." Harry smiled at the older man's good humor. Being whole again certainly made a person cheerful.

"Can I talk to you about Professor Snape again?" At Remus's nod, Harry sat down. "Well, ever since the other day, we've both been using a Pensieve. I take out what I think of him, and he takes out what he thinks of me."

Remus laughed. "Sounds like a good idea. All that bad karma cleared out in one easy sweep."

"I thought so too, but it's gotten a bit more complicated now. At first, we were almost strangers, which was okay enough, I guess. He wasn't as mean, and I wasn't as nervous."

"You know, a piece of the puzzle just fell into place. I couldn't understand how Snape let you act as bait." Remus shifted in his chair. "Damn, I own him an apology. I accused him of not caring if you were caught as long as he wasn't."

"That wasn't it." Harry stood from his chair.

"I realize that now, Harry. I said I needed to apologize to him. He didn't have all his memories of you, did he?" Harry shook his head. "Well, that is interesting, isn't it?"

"I don't know what to think about it, really." Harry sat back down. "When I'm in the library with him, I only remember how he's been the past few days in the library. But when I put the memories back, it's like he suddenly becomes another person in my head."

"I suppose he acts differently during the lessons?"

"Yeah. And when we were planning how to handle the Death Eaters this morning, too. When I told him I'd distract them for him, he just asked if I was sure if I could get away. I said yes, and he said okay. But things got really weird when I woke up before." Remus leaned forward. "It sounds silly to say it now, but, well, he was almost taking care of me. We talked about my scar and his Mark." Harry shrugged and let out a long sigh.

"That doesn't sound like anything extraordinary, does it? Like two people who'd just been through a rough time together talking." Remus's smirk belied his casual tone.

"Yeah, two old friends." Harry laughed.

"You know what I think, Harry? I think that if you weren't The-Boy-Who-Lived and he wasn't Snivellus Snape, then that kind of conversation would have been a lot more normal, and that jab he got in as he was leaving before would have been the oddity."

Harry left with that thought in mind, but it seemed off a little bit. Maybe, Harry thought, if The-Boy-Who-Lived had a different last name.


	6. Chapter 6

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 6

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The morning after Harry's rescue attempt, the students, now five with the recent addition of Neville, gathered around the kitchen table for breakfast. Harry eyed the urn of coffee that Mrs. Weasley refused to serve him while the other four went on excitedly about the previous day's adventure. He had not slept well at all. Voldemort was angrier than usual, and while Harry's growing proficiency as an Occlumense protected him from getting caught up in that anger, the spillover had caused him a full night of nightmares and fitful sleep. Across the table, Ron was boasting in Neville's place to Remus, explaining how the little town had jumped to Longbottom's defense.

"I'm sorry, Neville," Remus said. "I had no idea your grandmother didn't tell you what your parents had done. We'll fix that, though, I promise. Your parents left a legacy you should be proud of. Just about every member of the Order owes their life to your parents in one way or another, and I'm ashamed that you have to learn that now, after so many years."

Neville kept his head down and focused on his eggs. "Thank you, sir. I'd like very much to know more about my parents."

Remus was fully healed now, so stories would have to wait until he returned from whatever business he was being sent on this time. Harry smiled to himself, happy for Neville. He had spent eleven years not knowing how or why his parents had died, but they was so famous that once he was at Hogwarts, it seemed the entire Wizarding world was eager to share stories with Harry. It was terrible that Neville had grown up in that world with no one taking the time to do the same for him.

To Harry's left, cutting her toast into symmetrical bite-sized pieces, Hermione was speculating on how the Death Eaters had found them with Neville and how Avery had summoned so many of his fellow dark wizards in so short a time. No one was really listening to her, though Mrs. Weasley made the occasional noise of agreement, mostly out of politeness, as she was absorbed in seeing that all the housework was being done and checking Ginny's letter to Dean periodically to make sure it didn't contain anything inappropriate.

"Ginny! You can't say that to a boy! Remove that immediately." Ginny scrunched up her nose and erased the offending lines with a quick spell. "You can't tell him that either. What if the letter gets intercepted?"

"But Mom, he wants to know where I am."

"Tell him you're on vacation, then, visiting Bill or something. Bill can forward any letters along. Honestly, you should know better than to talk about what's happening here."

Absorbed as the others were, only Harry noticed Tonks slip into the room and help herself to some toast. She sat down next to Harry with a smile and summoned a cup of coffee to her. Harry returned the smile and was about to ask the young Auror about Snape's latest Death Eater meeting but was interrupted.

"How do you kids do it?" Tonks asked.

"Uhm, do what?"

"This." She waved her toast at Harry's friends. "Yesterday, if I've heard right, those three," she said as crumbs flew in the direction of Hermione, Ron and Neville, "were cornered by roughly a dozen Death Eaters." The toast tipped towards Ginny, spilling some jam on the table. "She was knocked about by another, and you, and Severus saved the bunch of them." Harry dodged some jam at the last part. "Following that, you were pulled into the mind of the most twisted being on the planet. And here you all are chatting about it like it was a Quidditch match." She shook her head. "How do you guys manage to be so normal about it all?"

Harry looked around at his friends. _How screwed up does your life need to be that an Auror of all people asks you how you handle it?_ "Normal's whatever your used to, I guess."

"Merlin, Harry." She stared at his scar and he turned his head. He hated when people did that, and one of the things he liked so much about Tonks was that she had never done it before. "What kind of life did he leave you?"

"There were only seven Death Eaters at the cabin."

"What?"

"You said a dozen Death Eaters. There were only seven. Eight, including the one that Snape. . ." So much for trying to make light of Tonks's question.

"He had no choice, Harry." Tonks looked carefully at Harry. "Look Harry, I'm not exactly a big fan of his either, and we probably all second guess his actions way more than we need to, but he had no choice. She saw him. If she'd lived, she'd tell. He couldn't risk a spell powerful enough to erase her memory completely. There's no way the other Eaters wouldn't have sensed it, and You-Know-Who would have blasted right through a memory blocking charm in no time. And killing her with a knife means no magical signature to trace back. He had no choice."

"I know that." He did. That made it worse.

The conversation was cut short when an owl suddenly appeared in the kitchen. "How in the world did that get in here?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Stand back, everyone." Tonks, always on guard, drew her wand and coaxed the animal to land on the counter. "Anyone expecting mail?" The young auror looked ready to blast the owl if it so much as hooted without permission.

"Uhm, I don't think you need to worry about it. I do, maybe." Neville said. He was staring at the owl in a bit of a panic. Hermione giggled and Ron and Harry let out raucous laughs. They recognized the owl, and the fierce red letter it held was unmistakable.

"It's a howler from Mrs. Longbottom." Ginny decided to give her mother and Tonks a break. "Everyone at Hogwarts knows that owl. We all have to cover our ears when it shows up during lunch."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley said. She patted Neville's arm with a wince. "I just owled your grandmother, Neville, and explained a little bit of what happened." Neville nodded but didn't take his eyes off the package waiting to explode. Gathering his nerve, the boy reached over and retrieved the letter. It shook in his hand, gave him a paper cut, and flew straight at Mrs. Weasley.

"It's for you!"

Harry didn't think Neville's eyes could have grown wider, but the surprise at finding who was the target of his grandmother's wrath quickly replaced his fear.

"Well." Mrs. Weasley clutched the letter in two hands. "I should probably. . . open this. . . elsewhere."

The students burst into laughter as Ron's mother nearly ran from the room. When Mrs. Longbottom's voice echoed down the stairs, Ron had to wipe the tears from his eyes. Most of it was too muffled or too incoherent to make out, but no one needed the details to enjoy it thoroughly.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen. Her hair had fallen out of its bun, and her robes were wrinkled and twisted about her. Harry wondered if she'd taken notes and hoped, for his best friend's sake, that she had not thought of it. And if he knew his best friend as well as he did, Harry was sure Ron was at that moment trying to control himself. By the expression on his face, Harry could see that Ron's better sense was losing. Luckily, Ron never had a chance to say whatever it was that was trying to get out.

Snape swept into the kitchen with his usual stride. "Molly, is Albus in?"

"Oh, Severus, you're back." She straightened her robes at Snape's glance. "Yes, he's upstairs." She watched the students finishing up breakfast. "Perhaps we should join him." Hermione's eyes narrowed and Harry could practically hear her plotting the best way to eavesdrop. She was saved the trouble of a plan, though.

"There is no need for that yet. I want everyone to hear this." His gaze swept over the group, causing a chill that only he could manage. With a whispered spell, Snape let Dumbledore know he was needed.

In moments, they were joined by the Headmaster, as well as Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall and Hestia Jones. Harry had not realized the latter four were even in the house, but with so many people coming and going, he had given up trying to keep track.

"What do you think's going on?" Hermione asked him in a whisper. Harry simply shrugged; they'd find out soon enough. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's disinterest and turned to ask Ron the same thing.

Once everyone had settled themselves, Snape stood; his dark presence quieted everyone without a word. "The Dark Lord's plans have changed." As Snape was the Order's highest placed operative, it was not real shock to those gathered that he would have heard this. It was a shock, to Professor McGonagall at least, that he would discuss it in front of Harry and his friend, and she said as much. "They need to hear this Minerva, if for no other reason than to make sure they understand the grave danger they are all in. Potter's little clan has proven incapable of forethought and common sense thus far. That is going to get them killed very shortly." Under Snape's eye, the five teens squirmed and shifted in their seats. "Between what occurred in Department of Mysteries and the rather embarrassing defeat of eight Death Eaters yesterday, Mr. Potter's friend are now nearly as wanted as Potter himself."

"For what?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "They're just children."

"Revenge," Snape said. "And bait. It was not lost on the Dark Lord that it was Harry who arrived to help those three."

"This is your fault, Severus." McGonagall stepped forward. Her face was red and her lips pursed. Harry had never seen so visibly upset. "If you hadn't allowed the boy to put himself in danger. To use him as bait-"

"He didn't use me. I volunteered," Harry said.

"Please, Mr. Potter, you do not understand the gravity of this."

Harry laughed, a single, short burst of sound without a hint of humor. "I don't understand, Professor? When I close my eyes, I see his victims dying in front of me. I've _ felt _ how he enjoys their pain. I've felt his pleasure at people's suffering and the anger and hatred that's so strong, it consumes everything else. Can anyone else here say they understand Voldemort as well as I do? Some of you have fought him and his followers your whole lives. But do anyone of you know what his greatest disappointment is?" Harry's eyes held no emotion as he looked around the room. "It's not me, actually. He probably hates me more than anyone else, except maybe my mother, but that's different. His greatest disappointment is the weakness of the human body. Not his. He has all the Dark Arts to protect himself. It's the weakness of his victims he really regrets. They all die too soon."

Harry sat up straight in his chair and thought he could see a look of mourning in Snape's eyes. He went on. "Professor Snape didn't force me to do what I did. I knew that anyone else might be able to distract a few of the wizards, but not all of them. But there was no other choice. No one else knew where we were. There was no help coming, and even Professor Snape couldn't handle all of them at once. Someone would have recognized him and escaped, and he'd be dead, and maybe Ron, Hermione and Neville, too. He wouldn't want anything to do with any of them if they hadn't risked their lives for me. No one here can tell me I can't help my friends."

Hermione hugged Harry. "That's very sweet, Harry, but. . ." She swallowed hard.

Neville took up the thread of her sentence. "You're more important than us, Harry. As long as you're alive, everyone thinks there's a chance. If he kills us, it's just a few more dead kids. If he kills you, then he's finally managed to kill The-Boy-Who-Lived, and what hope does anyone else have, then?"

"They're right Harry," Ron said. "I mean, we don't mind the danger, because you're our friend, and we're going to be there for you. But you're more than that to so many people."

"Gryffindors," Snape said, "are so predictable. Haven't you heard a word Harry said? Haven't you paid attention at all the past two years?" The look of disgust on Snape's face was far beyond anything they'd seen before. "If any of you are captured, Harry will experience every moment of your torture and death. His Occlumency is progressing, but the connection will be too strong to fight." Ron grew pale; even his freckles disappeared into the pallor of his skin. Hermione barely stifled a shriek and had tears in her eyes as she stared at Harry.

"Oh, Harry, I never thought of that. Oh, I'm so sorry." Hermione said and hugged the boy again. Ron refused to even look at Harry.

"Mr. Neville must stay here for the time being," Snape said. "And all of you must stop. Running. Off." No one responded. Harry suspected that none of his friends had considered what their capture would do to him. Snape had, though, which did not quite surprise him. A week ago, he would have been sure that Snape's dramatic speech would have been done just for the pleasure of scaring the Gryffindors and perhaps even as a selfish attempt to keep Harry safe until Voldemort was dead. But now, Harry was not so sure. Could Snape be trying to spare him more pain?

"Well, then, now that's settled," McGonagall said. She straightened her robes and looked to Snape. She'd dropped her previous argument, Harry noted. "Was that all, or do you want to terrify everyone a little more?"

Snape let the comment go by without remark. "That is not quite all. It has been made clear that Potter's capture is paramount. He is focusing all his energy, and the energy of all his followers, on that alone."

"That is unfortunate," Dumbledore said. Harry had been wondering when the Headmaster would speak up. "And when school starts next term?" The old wizard looked at Snape.

"If Mr. Potter is still alive by the end of the summer, I must deliver him myself. There will be no excuses tolerated."

"Even if he lost his ability to spy on Albus through you?" Hestia Jones asked.

Snape nodded. "If Fudge himself were an agent, the Dark Lord would have him reveal himself if it meant Potter's death."

"Well, then," Dumbledore said and reached for bit of toast that had gone cold on the table. "It seems we have some planning to do."

Mrs. Weasley asked, "We can excuse the students now, Severus?"

Snape nodded, but Harry's voice soft but firm, drifted to Dumbledore's ears. "More secrets?"

Dumbledore looked sharply at Harry, eyes softening. "We are all agreed that Mr. Longbottom will join us for the summer?" The adults in the room all nodded.

"Perhaps you should owl her about that, Albus," Mrs. Weasley said. Ron sniggered but managed to keep himself under control with the help of Hermione's elbow in his ribs.

"That's fine, Molly." Dumbledore had that twinkle in his eye again, and Harry knew the Headmaster had heard the howler. "In that case, I see no harm in allowing the students to hear what we are planning. This does not mean you will allowed to attend all our meetings, but as this does affect you, I will make an exception." Above the objections, he said, "They can divulge nothing if they do not leave, and I hope that they now understand the importance of keeping themselves safe. For Harry's sake, if not their own."

Ron answered. "Yes sir, we'll stay here if we have to. We won't try to leave the house, I promise." Dumbledore nodded and the conversation turned to Snape's dilemma.

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For two hours, Harry and his friends listened quietly as the members of the Order discussed options for protecting Snape's position as double agent. When it was noted by Shacklebolt that it was likely Snape would have to go further into Voldemort's service, Hermione whispered to Harry, "Why doesn't he stay at Hogwarts? Better to lose a spy than have him get killed, right?"

"He'll die if Voldemort finds out he's a spy. He can kill Snape through the Mark. He doesn't need to be in contact with him." Hermione must not have sorted that out on her own, and she commented testily that Harry seemed bent on keeping secrets from them all. Harry chose not to reply. His had no idea what was going on between him and Snape lately, but he had no intention of making things worse by gossiping about the teacher.

Eventually, it became clear that no answers were going to be found that day, and the discussion turned to keeping the students safe. Harry took the opportunity to ask a question he had been fretting over since his friends' danger was first mentioned. "Headmaster? What about Luna? She was in the Department of Mysteries with us. Is Voldemort looking for her too?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a fond smile. "Your concern for your friends is admirable as always, Harry. Professor Snape would know the answer to that question better than I, but I can assure that either way, Miss Lovegood is quite safe. Her father anticipated some danger and has taken his own steps to see to his daughter's safety. I believe they are out of the country at present, and intend to stay far away from anything resembling civilization." Hermione smirked, and Harry recalled Luna's planned trip to Sweden. He let the subject drop. Finally, it was decided that there would always be a member of the Order, in addition to Snape whose choices were too limited in emergencies, in the house at all times. Harry was not happy with the result of the discussion, but he chose to keep his objections to himself. He knew his concerns would be ignored. He also worried that if he argued, Dumbledore would change his mind about being more open with him.

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Two days later, Harry was sprawled across the Ron's bed trying to gather up some interest in the game of wizard's chess Ron was playing against Neville. Neville, it turned out, was not half bad at the game. While he lost to Ron more often than not, he was a better challenge than Harry had ever proved to be. Harry started watching with the hopes of learning some new tricks, but boredom took over fast and his mind wandered, as it had often recently, to Professor Snape. Nothing had changed, which meant that for a few hours a day in the library, Snape seemed to actually tolerate his presence. Once the Pensieves were emptied, though, he was back to his nasty, hateful self. Harry was pretty sure he understood the change. He was going through the same thing, for the most part, and actually enjoyed the lessons while they were happening. He could not bring himself to actually like the bastard when he had all his memories back, though. Still, every time he started restoring his memories, it became harder and harder to deal with the sudden shift in attitude. Every day he had to reconcile the patient, sometimes funny, instructor from the library with the horrible wreck of a human being he knew the other twenty-two hours a day.

When Hermione and Ginny came into the room, head together and giggling about something, Harry decided to discuss his problem with his friends. Hermione had forgiven him for his harsh words days past. He suspected that a lot of that forgiveness had come from her guilt at not realizing on her own that Harry would certainly feel her death should she be caught by Voldemort. Saving her and getting her and the others access, though limited, to Order meetings certainly helped as well. At the very least, being a bit more in the loop meant fewer occasions to argue about spying.

Harry opened his mouth, then realized he had no idea how to go about getting advice for this. What exactly did he want advice about? It would be easiest if he could just hate Snape as much during the lessons as he did the rest of the time, but he knew the Potions Master would pick up on it if Harry left in some memories. Did he want Snape to like him? Bloody unlikely, that. Well, perhaps that was what he needed advice on. First decide what result he was going for, then worry about how to go about it.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked. Leave it to her to sense he needed her advice. She lived for this.

"Not wrong, exactly. I'm just thinking about Snape."

Hermione nodded. "Actually, I've been thinking about that, Harry. You know what I think?"

"Bet you'll tell us," Ron said. He gave Harry a grin; Hermione turned her nose up at the boy and kept talking.

"I think he's jealous that you got away from Voldemort and he didn't. That's why he hates you so much. And when he takes out the memory of who you are, he stops hating you."

"Or he hates you only as much as the rest of us," Ginny said.

Harry shook his head. "Not exactly. He called me The Boy Who Lived the other day, and he knew the Death Eaters would be after me more than anyone else when we were planning how to get you out. You're sort of right, though. There's a pretty specific reason why he treats me the way he does, and when he forgets that, he starts acting human."

"At that reason is. . .?" Hermione asked.

"You know I can't tell you, Hermione. Please don't ask me to."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well, if you won't tell us, we can't help you, can we?"

"It doesn't matter. I keep telling you that. There's a - thing - the details aren't important."

"Well, how can I be sure of that if you won't tell me?"

"I'm sure, so just trust me."

"Harry? Let's forget about what it is for now. You said you didn't blame him for how he felt." Harry nodded to Ginny's question, grateful for the chance to move on. Hermione sniffed and buried herself in a book. "So you think he really should hate you?"

"Not exactly," Harry said. He ignored Hermione. She would get over it eventually. "I understand why he hates me, but I don't think he really _ should_. It's hard to explain."

"So it's like what Hermione thought." Neville joined the conversation. He looked over at the pouting girl and continued when it was clear she was not going to look up. Harry gave him credit for trying to bring her back into the conversation, though. "If he was jealous of you or something, then you could understand how he felt, but still not agree with him. It's sort of like that?"

"Then we just need to show Snape that he's being a moron." Ron directed one of his pieces to crush Neville's king and sat back in his chair. "Without knowing what it is, though, we really can't help much. I know! I know! I'm just saying." Ron looked apologetic, so Harry let the comment slide. "But somehow, you need to get him to see that you're just you. Not whatever he thinks you are."

"Okay, that makes sense. But how?" No one answered, and Harry knew they were all thinking the same thing. If Harry was going to keep his secret, there was not much they could offer.

"Well, I know one thing he thinks about you, Harry, that isn't really true," Ginny said. "And I think I even know how to fix it." Harry couldn't help but think of the twins when he saw the glint in Ginny's eye. Even Hermione looked up at the mischievous tone, and they all leaned in to hear what Ginny had cooked up.

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Another morning arrived with another Occlumency lesson. Snape and Harry sat across from each other in a ritual Harry had become used to. His instructor glared at him as they filled their respective Pensieves. Harry could always predict when Snape was finished as his bones were no longer chilled by the man's stare. Today, Harry intended to leave a single memory behind–a little note to himself, really. It was a gamble that depended on how much of Harry himself Snape was removing. If Snape was only taking out memories of James, then he would certainly see through this. But at worst it would simply earn another insult, and Harry knew he could handle that easily enough. He had practice. Once he was ready to begin the lessons, he no longer knew why he had left instructions for himself. _ Well, I do remember that it's important, so I'll do it. _

Today they would again be practicing Occlumency against involuntary questioning. Harry still had not picked up the knack of hiding that he was hiding something. Snape always seemed to know when Harry was holding back, even if he could not discover what exactly what it was. However, a skilled interrogator could learn volumes simply by discovering what type of information was being withheld and what information Harry simply didn't know. Because of that, Snape was allowing Harry to come up with topics for interrogation. Snape would then attempt to discover if that line of questioning was a dead end or if Harry was keeping something from him. Harry was getting better at it, and Snape had taken almost twenty minutes to question Harry last time before deciding, correctly, that Harry did indeed know that Dumbledore purchased his lemon drops from a Muggle store just outside of London.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Snape said, settling back into his armchair. "What deep dark secret shall I dig out of you today?"

Harry chuckled. It had been a joke they shared over the past few days. Both Harry and Snape had made a game of trying to come up with the most inane topics for their exercise. "Well, I think I did pretty well yesterday." Harry looked up to see Snape nodding. "So I thought I would go for something more complicated this time." _ Let's hope this makes sense. _ "What do I think of being The-Boy-Who-Lived?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at the question. "Emotional responses are much more difficult to hide than simple facts. But you have shown impressive skill over the past few says. Let's see how well you fare." With that, Snape began a series of questions, all the while inundating Harry's mind with visions, unspoken questions, and even two attempts to enter Harry's mind directly. Harry could not help but smile with pride when he fought off the attacks while still maintaining the same reserved demeanor as he answered Snape's questions. After a quarter hour, Harry could feel himself growing exhausted. He was pretty sure he had let nothing slip by but also knew that would not last longer. Snape, no doubt, sensed this as well, and shifted his focus, trying to elicit the emotional response he had warned Harry about.

Three minutes later, Harry felt Snape's mind ease off of the shields he had placed around his own thoughts, and the older man smirked. Harry knew what the small smile meant. Harry had lost their game, again, but Snape was still pleased with the boy's attempt. "No, Mr. Potter. I think it's safe to say that you despise the attention you get as The-Boy-Who-Lived. If you had your way, no one but your teachers and your friends would even know you existed."

Harry sunk into his chair and took off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"That was impressive, Potter. Especially given that you have not been sleeping well."

"Should I bother asking how you know that?" Harry grinned at his professor. Such revelations were hardly unexpected during what nearly amounted to as mind-reading lessons.

Snape shrugged and after a moment asked, "Nightmares still?"

Harry nodded. "I don't think he's really calmed down since the other day. He's angry all the time." Harry rubbed at his temples.

"We're done for today. Retrieve your memories and take the morning off."

"It's only been a half hour, sir. I can keep going."

"You did well, there is no shame in stopping early." Snape picked up Harry's Pensieve and leaned over to force it into the boy's hand. "Get some rest, Harry."

Harry realized arguing was pointless as his teacher picked up the other Pensieve. Harry grabbed his wand and began emptying the Pensieve again. As he progressed, he kept his head down, again conscious of the plan he had hatched the night before. He finished before Snape and stood to leave, hoping to get out of there before the Potions Master had time to catch up and realize what had gone on. Harry was a step from the door when Snape's voice halted him.

"Potter." Snape's face was completely devoid of any expression. He could have been carved from granite for all the life he showed. Knowing what was coming, Harry took a risk and completely dropped all the shields and wards he had learned to keep around his mind and thoughts. He was exposed, completely, to Snape's Legilemency.

"There was not one memory, not a single thought, in my Pensieve that had anything to do with my question. Like I always do, I only took out memories about you. Everything else I kept."

Snape did not respond. His face was still as lifeless as before, and Harry was suddenly terrified. He thought he had seen every bad mood Snape could have, but this was beyond anything he had experienced. Head bowed, Harry had to open the door with two hands. He couldn't seem to maneuver the handle with just one; he was trembling too much.


	7. Chapter 7

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 7

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Snape's hand sped past Harry's ear and slammed the door shut just as Harry had managed to pull it open. Harry kept his face to the door. He could feel the instructor's presence just inches from him, and he had no idea what the man was planning. The idea had seemed like a good one at the time–a way to get one over on the Potion's Master and maybe get Harry's point across at the same time. He had not expected an apology, but he had not expected the kind of fury he could sense flowing from Snape.

"We are not done yet, Mr. Potter." The man's voice was cold, deadly. Not detention-for-a-term deadly, but Death Eater deadly. Harry had pushed him too far this time; a line had been crossed. "How dare you-"

As quickly as it had come upon him, Harry's terror was swept away, replaced with his own fury. He turned around. "How dare I what? How dare I ask you to treat me like a human being?" Snape's face was as cold as ever; Harry pressed on. "How dare I point out you're _wrong_ about something, when all you ever do is insult me for the smallest mistake?"

"Your little game is over, Potter. Do not try to make a fool of me again." Snape pulled his wand from his robe. They definitely had crossed a line, and Harry was not going to back down. Not when Snape was threatening him like that.

"Get over yourself," Harry said with as much disgust as he could muster. Somewhere in the back corner of his mind there was a part of him that was not yet ready to collapse. That was the part that noted the utter shock that passed, for the briefest moment, through Snape's eyes.

"This is you last warning, boy."

"No, this is yours." Harry's tone dropped suddenly as the adrenaline seeped from his veins. He was calm again, as calm as Snape. He pulled his hair back from his forehead. "I got this because of what my parents did. Voldemort _ hates _ me for it. And we both know you will never hate anyone as much as Voldemort hates me." Harry took a step forward. "You want to hate me for what my father did to you? Get in line." Harry spun around and headed back to the door. He pulled his wand and with an economical twitch of his hand, the door swung open.

Harry kept his swift pace until he was back in his room. His friends, of course, had gathered to hear the results. He collapsed on the bed, suddenly exhausted, amidst his friends' questions. He rolled over onto his back. "That did not go well."

"C'mon, Harry," Ron said. "What happened?"

Harry stared at the ceiling. "I don't know. He got mad. Really mad. Then I got mad. Things were bad before. They're worse now."

"I'm sorry, Harry." Ginny was frowning. "It was my idea."

"It isn't your fault, Ginny."

"Did it work, though?" Hermione asked. Harry looked at her like she'd turned into a flobberworm. "I mean, did he admit that you're not the egomaniac he keeps saying you are."

"During the lesson, yeah. After it. . ." Harry shrugged.

Harry filled his friends in on how the lesson had gone. He even decided to try to make peace with Hermione by giving up a little of Snape's secret. "The memory I saw was of Snape and my father when they were in Hogwarts together. That's why he doesn't like me."

"Because of your dad?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. He and my father didn't quite get along."

"What exactly did your father do?" Hermione asked, never quite content without the full story.

"I'm still not going to tell you that," Harry said. Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. Harry, expecting as much, ignored it. "So anyway, he got mad, I got mad, and I told him if he was going to hate me for what my father did to him, he'd have to wait for Voldemort to finish with me first." Ron was looking at him like he'd just been hired on as Seeker for the Chudley Canons.

"Wow, Harry," Neville said. "Hey, if you get the Pensieve, can you show us the look on his face when you said that?"

"I'm just so sick of suffering for what my parents did," Harry said.

"Harry!" Remus had apparently come in silently. "What a thing to say!"

Harry grew pale. "No, I didn't mean. . . Not Voldemort or anything." Remus's featured softened a little. "It's just Snape." Harry sighed.

"What happened?"

Harry retold the story again. Remus growled and opened the door. "Come with me, Harry. This has gone on long enough."

Harry followed his father's friend to the library. As they approached the door, Harry's steps slowed. "I really don't think-"

Remus opened the door and entered, leaving Harry in the hall. _ So much for getting out of this. _ Harry cautiously slipped into the room and closed the door. Snape was sitting in his customary chair, legs crossed.

"I was wondering how long you'd take to run to Lupin," Snape said.

"Firstly, Harry didn't come running to me. I asked him what happened. But I have more important things to talk to you about." Remus waited for Snape to say something, but the man stayed silent. "Look, Severus, what happened between all of us was ages ago. I don't expect you ever to call me a friend, and I can even understand holding a grudge against Sirius for trying to send you to the shack that night, but if you can treat me no more uncivilly than the rest of the world, why can't you let go of how James treated you too? He was no worse than I was."

Harry was not too thrilled at Remus's implication that Sirius deserved to be hated, but he held his tongue. Remus had not tried to get Snape killed, and his father had even stopped it from happening. It was Sirius, after all, who wanted to see the prank through.

"Don't be stupid, of course he was worse."

Harry bit his lip and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for his wand. Remus asked, "How? Hell, Severus, we were always together, I couldn't be any less to blame for. . ." Remus trailed off. Snape's cold glare was fixed on Remus, and he raised an eyebrow expectantly as the werewolf trailed off. "Seventh year. It was James who told everyone?"

"As if you didn't know. Always together, after all."

Remus shook his head. "No, he never said anything." He looked up at met Snape's eyes. "Lily. He probably told her first. She wouldn't have let him tell us. Merlin, I . . . Harry, would you please wait outside?"

Harry left quietly but kept the door slightly open. A part of him wanted to hear this, and another part desperately wanted to run away. He had been a lot more comfortable thinking of his father before he started discovering Snape's past.

From the doorway, Remus's words drifted to Harry. "Severus, I never really apologized for the stuff during seventh year. And saying I'm sorry now seems hypocritical. I have no excuse for what I did. A werewolf saying the things I said– I don't deserve your forgiveness. At least the way I'm treated is because there's a chance I'll hurt someone. You never killed anyone because you're . . ."

"Didn't I?"

"Merlin." Harry heard the sounds of someone settling heavily into a chair.

"Oh, please, Lupin. The last thing I need or want is your pity."

A sigh. "Okay, Severus. I'll drop it. But still, Harry isn't James. Harry never did anything to you. Can't you at least see that?" Silence. "Then what about Lily? She stood up for you. Harry may look like his father, but he's as much Lily's child as James's. He needs these lessons, Severus. There's more than just his sanity at stake here. I can't teach him as well you can. Even Albus can't."

"I never said I wouldn't teach the boy." Was it Harry's imagination, or was Snape's voice a little less harsh when he said that. "You may was well come back in, Mr. Potter."

Harry hesitated, wondering if it was better to pretend he didn't hear and hadn't been eavesdropping. Then again, when had he ever known Snape to be fooled by such tactics? Harry returned to find Remus looking distraught and Snape as calm as ever. "Sir?"

Snape pointed to a bookshelf. "There is a book of advanced Occlumency on that shelf. I want two feet on the first five chapters for tomorrow." Harry found the book and desperately wanted to leave, but he was unsure if he should apologize for what had happened. He was not even sure if he would be apologizing for what he had done or his father. Snape solved his problem for him.

"You may go. Both of you. And Lupin, please tell Albus he may retrieve his Pensieve at his leisure. We will no longer be using them. It is time Harry moved past such crutches."

Harry was not sure what that would mean for future lessons but was certain it would be a bad idea to point out that Snape, not Harry, had originally insisted on the Pensieves. Harry was disappointed, though. He had started enjoying his lessons up until today. He could not see that happening without the aid of magical artifacts.

Torn between asking Remus about what he and Snape had talked about and leaving well enough alone, Harry was sure Remus would not share, so he let it go. When he got back to his room, his friends were still there waiting for him. Harry told them what had happened, forbidding Hermione from digging further.

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Harry spent the rest of the day hiding in the book Snape had assigned him. He was trying very hard not to think too much about what Remus and Snape had talked about. The minute he had seen his father taunting Snape in the Pensieve last year, he wished he had never looked into the silver dish. Whatever this new thing was, it must have been worse than what he had witnessed.

The next morning, Harry was both worried and relieved when Snape informed him they would not be doing any practice work in Occlumency. Worried, because he knew he needed to become a master at the skill. Relieved, because he was far too tense in the Potion Master's presence to control his emotions. Instead, Snape read over his essay as Harry read the next few chapters in his book.

The book _ was_ useful, at least, and Harry had even run out to fetch some parchment and a quill to take notes. The first ten minutes were silent but for the rustling of pages and the scrape of the quill.

"Miss Granger helped you with this," Snape said. Harry rubbed at the ink he had splattered and tried to discern if that had been a question or accusation.

"No, sir. Hermione hasn't studied Occlumency."

Snape grunted and went back to reading the essay. Harry returned to his note taking. Several more minutes passed, and Snape rolled up Harry's essay and placed it on the table next to him. He took up the four pages Harry had already filled with notes and looked them over.

"There is much more mentioned in that chapter than you wrote here."

"Uh, yes, Professor. But a lot of it is stuff I've already been doing, or at least trying to do, during the practicals. I'm only writing down new techniques and theory."

"It's good to see you taking this seriously."

"I always have, sir."

"Even yesterday?" Snape dropped the papers on the table and returned to his chair. "That little game of yours?"

"I wasn't trying to make a fool of you, Professor. Don't you get tired of everyone assuming something about you that's not true?"

"What are you talking about?" Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Everyone thinks you're a Death Eater. Well, I guess you are, technically, but only members of the Order and other Death Eaters know for sure. But most of the students at Hogwarts think you're Voldemort's biggest supporter. Doesn't it bother you that you can't tell them they're wrong?"

"That wouldn't exactly be healthy for me, would it?"

"Well, no sir. I don't mean to say you should tell anyone anything. But I didn't think there was anything to lose by showing you that I'm not the person you think I am."

"There is always something to lose, Potter."

Harry stared down as his notes for a moment. "I don't really know how to answer that."

"Well, that is hardly a surprise, is it?"

_ Why am I even bothering trying to talk to him? _ "No, Sir, I don't suppose it would be." He took up his quill again and started on the next page.

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Snape watched Harry go back to his book. The boy gave up too easily. Not that he had expected an argument, but Harry had never simply accepted a remark like that with such resignation. He leaned back in his chair and charmed the doors locked.

"So tell me, Mr. Potter. Who are you?" Snape asked. Harry paused in his writing and looked up, but did not speak. "There's no punch line, Mr. Potter. If I'm so mistaken regarding whom you are, then tell me. Who are you?"

"I'm just Harry. And that's all I want to be. I don't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I don't want to be Voldemort's worst enemy. And I want to be able to walk down a street just once without people whispering about me."

"You seem to go out looking for trouble a lot for someone who wants such a simple life."

Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He looked so tired lately. Snape recalled that yesterday Harry told him he was still having nightmares.

"The only time I go looking for it is when no takes me seriously. I only tried to find the Philosopher's Stone when everyone kept telling me it was safe. I knew someone was trying to get to it. I was just wrong about who." Harry glanced up at Snape at that. Snape knew Harry had suspected him, not Quirrell. "When the Chamber of Secrets was opened, all you teachers kept saying it didn't exist. The only people who believed it was open were the same people who thought I opened it. And I never wanted to be in the Triwizard tournament."

Harry put his glasses back on and stared out the window behind Snape. "I guess I was looking for trouble when I went to the Department of Mysteries, but if wanting to save the closest thing to a real family I've ever had makes me an attention grabbing egomaniac, then I guess I am what you think I am."

"No, that makes you a Gryffindor."

Harry continued to stare out the window, then finally shook his head and said, "I must be more tired than I'd realized. That almost sounded like a joke."

"That was a joke. And you are too tired. You could have asked me for a sleeping potion. Or something to prevent dreams."

Harry looked away. "I didn't want to trouble you."

Snape recalled his reaction the last time Harry had asked him for a potion. He had mocked Harry for feeling the injuries he had gotten trying to keep Snape's secret safe. Damn the boy. Why in the world does he allow himself to be treated that way? Snape turned his anger outward toward the young wizard. The boy was determined to be a doormat; how could Snape be blamed for insulting him? He was staring at Harry again, who shifted in his seat and shuffled through his notes to avoid his gaze.

"Are we going to be practicing again soon, Professor? There are a few things I read about that I'd like to try."

He had expected the question eventually. He knew Harry would never improve without more practical experience, but he was no longer willing to use the Pensieve. The mental shift being forced on him after each lesson was taking its toll. The alternative, though, was not much better. Snape had too many memories he had no desire to share. And there were things he'd seen, things he'd done, that would give Harry nightmares. No one should have to see them.

That last thought caused a frown, and Harry looked worried. The boy already had nightmares, though. And the things he'd seen, no lived, through his connection to Voldemort were far beyond anything Snape had done. If he really intended to protect the boy, it would have to be through strengthening Harry's ability to shield himself from the Dark Lord's mind, not his own. As for the other things his mind held, that could be dealt with now.

"Yes, you will continue to practice. I meant what I said about the Pensieves, though. You've learned the basics free of personal distractions. You will not have that luxury when your skills are truly tested by the Dark Lord and his followers." Harry nodded. "Before we do that, however, there are things we need to discuss."

Snape paused again. Why was he delaying this time? Who was he trying to protect? He should be shoving Harry's father's actions down his throat. That solved nothing, though, and besides, he had been doing that to Harry for the past five years, in all honesty.

"As you pointed out yesterday, my feelings towards you are rather closely tied to my feelings about your father. You know some of what happened between us already."

"Until seventh year." At least Harry had enough sense to admit to his eavesdropping.

"That is correct. What you saw in the Pensieve was rather typical of what went on until seventh year." Snape kept talking, unsure if he would be able to start again if he stopped. "Our seventh year, however, you father discovered that I am homosexual. He went on to inform the school. I was never quite popular before that, but as you can imagine, I became even less so afterwards. And your father and his friends proved that they were capable of torment far beyond what they had shown previously." Harry was no longer looking at him. "It will likely show up at some point when you're working on your Legilemency skills."

"Are we going to be practicing today, Sir?"

Snape could hear the tightness in Harry's throat. "No, I believe we have covered quite enough today. We will continue tomorrow."

Head down, Harry stood and nearly ran from the room. Snape had to remove the locking charm from the door lest the boy hurt himself. His book and notes were still on the table. Snape replaced the quill in its well, dabbing up the ink that had spilled across the parchment. He heard the floorboards on the story above creak, followed by a dull thud. Snape growled and headed to the stairs.

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Snape found Harry in one of the attic rooms, sitting on a dusty trunk and scrubbing his eyes at the sound of his approach. "You realize, Mr. Potter, that once someone discovers you up here, they will undoubtably come to me demanding to know what I did to you. So I thought perhaps I should find out for myself so my answer is informed."

"I'm fine," the boy said. Snape crossed his arms. "You didn't do anything. I know you have no patience for this kind of thing. You don't need to be up here, Professor."

"Be that as it may, I am here now and you are clearly upset."

"I'll be fine. Please just leave me alone."

"If that is truly what you want, I will go. But first, a word. I do not know exactly what part of what I told you drove you up here. But if you share your father's prejudices, I suggest you get over them quickly. I am no longer the boy I was back then."

"Don't worry, I don't share my father's prejudices." Harry's voice broke on the last word, and Snape suddenly understood.

"Potter, are you gay?"

The boy looked at him sharply. Snape could see the tears welling, sparkling emerald. Sobs wracked Harry's body as he hid his face in his hands. Hesitating a moment, Snape put a hand on a trembling shoulder. Damn Minerva for being away. She was better with this type of thing. Anyone would be better at it. He felt like he should say something but had no idea what.

"Your father. . ."

"My father tortured you because you were. . . What you are. That's what turned you into a Death Eater, isn't it?" Harry's voice was harsher than Snape had ever heard it. "That's what you meant when you told Remus you killed people because of what you are."

"I turned to the Dark Lord for many reasons. Even I don't blame your father for that. Not entirely."

"But he hated you because of it."

Snape barked out a low laugh. "You father hated me well before seventh year."

"And somehow, he managed to hate you even more after he found out."

"James changed after graduation. He had such a narrow view in school. We all did. That's the nature of students. Later on. . ."

"He would have hated me too." Harry's unspoken admission was not lost on Snape. That took strength. "My parents would have hated me."

"No!" Snape scared himself at the force of his own words. It certainly startled Harry. "I won't pretend to know how your father would have reacted. But I will not tolerate you speaking so of your mother. You heard what Lupin said yesterday. She defended me, and she would not have you loved you any less for something so trivial. She did not see what we are as flawed, or lesser. I can say with certainty that she would have been proud of you. And if you father were too thickheaded to be proud of you too, then he is undeserving of your consideration."

Harry nearly disappeared into his robes. Several minutes passed; Snape was out of words.

"I'd like to be alone, if it's okay." Harry's voice was small and muffled, but his body was no longer shaking from the sobs. Snape stood.

"If you want to talk about anything, anything at all, I will be in my room." Snape said. The words sounded awkward on his ears. "I realize I made a similar offer recently. But you will note that this time, I make the offer with the Pensieve empty."


	8. Chapter 8

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 8

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Left alone, Harry slid down off the trunk he was sitting on and leaned back against it. The attic was dusty but quiet, and he doubted he'd be disturbed up here. The only person who knew his lessons were over for the morning was Snape, and he trusted that the man would not come back looking for him.

He tried to clear his mind, to calm down, but his thoughts refused to cooperate. He still was not entirely sure what had just gone on. Everything happened too fast. His father hated Snape because Snape was gay. His father would have hated him. He thought about the veil in the Department of Mysteries. His father was probably somewhere back beyond that curain, hating him right now.

Harry sunk into his mind. He knew he was pitying himself, and he did not care. He deserved a little self-pity now and then. There was nothing, nothing at all, about his life that would ever be normal. Harry closed his eyes and hugged his knees. He felt the tears coming back and fought them off. He could almost hear his father laughing at him.

The grief was around him like a blanket, dampening everything else. He only felt the pain in his scar when it was strong enough to cause flashes of light across his vision. Harry tried to stand, but his head throbbed and he fell to his knees. The soft thud his body made when it hit the floor was barely audible in the library below, though no one was there to hear it.

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Snape stirred one cauldron and checked the progress of another he had brewing. As his thoughts turned to Harry, his feelings bounced from pity to concern to anger. He was not particularly comfortable with any of those emotions, so he concentrated on his potions. Such work forced him to concentrate and he had long ago learned that his perfectionism in the laboratory could overcome any preoccupations. With only two moderately difficult brews before him, though, he was not quite occupied enough. He grabbed a book of healing potions and got to work on a sophisticated sleeping potion. There was no doubt who he was making it for, but he chose not to dwell on that.

A soft rapping on his door came just as he was removing the first cauldron from its heat. Expecting Harry, he opened the door with a quick spell. It was Hermione's voice that caused him to turn from his work.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione peered into the dark room. "Is Harry here?" Flashes of red hair betrayed the presence of at least one Weasley behind her, though the Potions Master suspected both were in the hall, along with Longbottom. Merlin forbid one travel without the rest. "It's time for lunch."

Snape scowled. "Mr. Potter is attending to some work I assigned him. I will fetch him. It may be dangerous for him to be disturbed by someone with an unshielded mind. Miss Granger, come here." Snape explained what needed to be done with his potions in the next few minutes and returned to the attic. Good that it was Granger, and not Longbottom, who would attend to the cauldrons. Unlike the rest, she at least did passable work.

With a soft rap on the door, Snape eased his way into the room, unsure of what he would find. The sight of Harry prone, mouth stretched open like he was screaming, was the last thing he had expected. Harry's eyes were closed, he noted. They were clenched, really, and subtle tremors in the boy's limbs revealed that his entire body was tensed. Feeling foolish, Snape pulled his robe to cover his face and scooped the boy up. At the contact, Harry began thrashing wildly and had to be held tightly against Snape's chest to prevent him from hurting himself.

After kicking open the door to his bedroom, Snape issued orders to the students waiting there. "Granger, continue with the potions. Potter will need them shortly." He added the last to cut short objections. "Longbottom, see if Dumbledore is in the house and send him here. Weasley, stand back!" The damned Weasley boy was grabbing at Potter.

Snape dropped Harry into the bed and tossed Ron behind him, away from the potions. A quick charm had Harry bound to the bed. His flailing had not subsided, and his face was still twisted in a scream. Worried about Harry biting his tongue, Snape doused a bit of wadded cloth with a sedative potion and stuffed it into the boy's mouth.

Dumbledore and Lupin crowded into the room with Longbottom in tow. The men understood what was going on immediately, and both looked to Snape for direction.

"I do not know what he's seeing, but I think I have an idea of what triggered it." Snape said no more and checked over Hermione's shoulder to see the potions she was tending. A cry from Ron brought his attention back to the bed. Harry's right arm trailed a frayed rope from the wrist as his hand, curled into a claw, struck at his face. Ron was the first to act, grabbing his friend's arm and laying across the boy to keep him still. Harry responded with a scream that sent a chill down even the Potion Master's back. Ron's body jolted as Harry nearly threw him, with his single free arm, off the bed. Snape had his wand drawn again and nodded at Lupin who had thrown himself on top of Ron. In single moment, Remus had Ron away from Harry's arm as new cords flew from both Snape and Hermione's wands.

Ron slumped against the wall, and Harry strained again against his bonds, though the combination of exhaustion from his previous efforts and the extra bonds Snape was adding to his restraints prevented even the smallest movement.

"Why do people keep throwing me?" Ron asked with a wince.

"Merlin," Lupin said. "What-"

Harry's eyes suddenly opened. Snape shrank back out of his sight and watched the boy look around the room, frantic. After a few moments, reason returned to the boy's eyes as he recognized his surroundings, as well as Dumbledore and Lupin, who were at his side.

"Harry," Dumbledore said sofly.

"Draco's taken the Mark." The raw words were barely a whisper and Harry was clearly straining to get them out. That said, the boy went limp and slipped into unconsciousness.

_ He experienced a Marking?_ Snape turned to Hermione. "I will tend to those potions now."

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Harry woke in an unfamiliar bed. His body ached and for a brief moment, he thought he'd fallen off his broom during a Quidditch match. The soft gurgle of a boiling cauldron caught his attention, and Harry realized he was in Snape's room. His bearings returned, the memories of the past day struck him like a physical blow. He closed his eyes with a soft moan.

"Harry?" Like everything else about Neville, his voice betrayed his emotions, and Harry could hear the worry behind his words. "Are you awake?"

Harry nodded. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"About half a day," Neville said. "It's a little after midnight now. Professor Snape said you were okay, but we've all been taking turns keeping an eye on you. Just in case you had another vision, you know?"

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Neville."

Neville shrugged uncomfortably. "So, what caused the vision?" Harry furrowed his brow. "Professor Snape said he knew what brought the vision on."

Harry's stomach lurched; he suddenly felt dizzy. "What did he say?" Harry hoped his voice sounded calmer than he felt.

"Nothing, really. Just that he knew what caused you to have the vision that time. I guess it was a bad one?"

"I felt Draco get the Mark. It was. . ." Harry had no words to describe it. "It was worse than anything before."

Neville turned white. As one of the few people who knew the other things Harry had seen, he must have had a hard time imagining what could have been worse. Harry could imagine it, though, and he was terrified that the feelings would never leave him. Harry pushed those feelings far away from him. Neville had enough people in his life who had suffered at Voldemort's hands.

"I'll be okay, Neville. I'm going to go back to my room. You should get some sleep too." Harry slowly stood from the bed. His legs were shaking, but his robes hid that from the other boy.

It had not occurred to Harry to wonder where Snape was spending the night until he opened the door to his room. A single candle on the table illuminated the large tome the Potions Master was reading. Harry caught himself on the door frame as Snape looked up at him.

"Oh, Sir. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here."

"Surely you do not need two rooms, Potter. Is one not enough?"

"Should I go back to your room?"

"There is no need." Snape closed his book. "By all means, Potter, please sit down. I think you have fallen quite enough for the day."

Relieved, Harry pushed away from the wall and stumbled to the bed. Snape left the door open when he left, and Harry saw the man stride across the hall and quickly return with two bottles.

"For sleep, and for the muscle ache you are no doubt feeling." Snape placed the bottles beside Harry's bed. "You really must break yourself of this habit of martyrdom. I assure you, it is not becoming."

"Thank you for the potions, sir. And I didn't choose to have that vision. They seem to be happening when I'm. . ." Snape nodded as Harry trailed off.

"No, you had little control over yourself at the time. We will address that another day. I am speaking, though, about your insistence to act like these visions do not affect you. I can assure you that Mr. Malfoy is not conscious yet, nor will he be for several days."

Harry ignored the chance for a shot at Malfoy and simply laughed. "Guess I'm just getting used to this."

Snape frowned at Harry's attempt at self-deprecation. "Perhaps you are. That, too, is something we will need to address." The man regarded Harry with his usual cold glare, and Harry wished the teacher would leave soon. "Did you see anything that the Order needs to know about now?"

"First you tell me I should be sleeping, now you want information?"

Snape shrugged. "You are awake through no action of mine. If you insist on being conscious and no less coherent than usual, I would be remiss not to ask the question."

Harry really did not want to argue the point. "Nothing new, no. He's mad at someone, but I don't know who. He said something about not accepting failure. I think he'd just finished torturing one of the Death Eaters before I connected to him. He's going to use Malfoy to kill me next year, but anyone could have guessed that since he took the Mark." Snape nodded but did not comment. "There was just a lot of him yelling about how much he wanted me dead. Just like you said the other day."

Snape nodded again and turned to the door. "There will be no lessons tomorrow. Take no more than a swallow of each potion tonight and another in the morning if you need."

"Thank you again, sir. And Professor? Will you be here tomorrow? There's something I'd like to talk to you about." Harry caught Snape's glance at the chair beside the bed. "Not tonight. It's not about anything from this morning. Or yesterday. Whenever. But I just want some sleep now. Will tomorrow be okay?"

"I will be here all day. Send one of your minions when you are feeling up to it."

Harry was too tired to tell if that was a joke or not, so he simply fell asleep.

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Harry was served a feast in bed the following morning. The potion for his aching muscles provided much needed relief. He had not understood why he was so drained until his friends described how hard he had been struggling. When they got to Harry breaking his bonds, Harry knew exactly what had been going on his mind.

"That was when Voldemort branded Malfoy. I didn't want to see any more. I kept thinking that I had to stop looking."

"You were clawing at your eyes?" Ron asked, his face twisted in horror.

"I thought so," Hermione said. "Your face has scratches down the right side."

Harry touched the tender flesh, bright red strips running down his forehead and cheek. "Thanks for stopping me, Ron. Bad enough having glasses. I don't want Moody's magical eye."

"Sure thing, mate." Ron grinned. "Just no more of that, right?"

"I'll try." Harry ate, enjoying his friends company. The past week had brought very little to cheer him up, and even Hermione seemed to know he needed a bit of lighthearted joking. Eventually, as it always did lately, the conversation turned to Voldemort and his plans for Harry.

"I have some plans of my own, actually," Harry said. "I'm going to ask Snape to teach me to fight."

"Not Professor Snape," Neville said.

"You think he will?" Ginny asked at the same time.

"Pretty sure," Harry answered. "We've sort of come to an understanding. That reminds me, I should go talk to him about that now." He waved away offers of help and stood up.

Harry assumed, correctly, that the Potions Master would be back in his room. Snape seemed to spend all of his time there when not teaching Harry or out keeping an eye on the Death Eaters. Harry had noticed that none of the adults in the house really cared for the other man and supposed that it was more comfortable for everyone if Snape stayed on the upper floors.

Harry approached the topic directly. He knew what he was asking for was unlikely at best. But Snape seemed the most likely ally, which certainly struck Harry as ironic.

"I'd like to learn how to fight, I mean really fight, not that dueling stuff. And I'd like you to teach me."

Snape raised an eyebrow but did not laugh Harry out of the room. Harry took that as a good sign. "Why do you want to learn combat? You are well guarded."

Harry laughed. "Everyone's so busy telling me how well protected I am, they don't have time to notice when I'm being held prisoner by Voldemort or chased by Death Eaters. Everyone knows I'm going to have to face him again, and if I'm going to win, I need to know what I'm doing."

Snape did not respond, and Harry pressed his point. "I know everyone's trying to protect me. And I guess they want to try to put off whatever's going to happen. But that's just dumb. Voldemort's not going to wait for me to graduate and finish my Auror training. People keep telling me not to rush out to fight him, but I'm not. I'd be very happy to meet him in two hundred years or something. But he's in a rush. And every day I'm _ not _ training is one day less ready I'll be when it happens."

"And why learn it from me?" Snape asked.

"Who else? I know Dumbledore would say no. Remus might, but he's always out doing whatever it is everyone's doing. You know what I need to know. And I'm sure you won't be too worried about hurting The-Boy-Who-Lived to teach me."

"I will speak to Dumbledore when he returns," Snape said.

"He'll just say it's a bad idea. You know he will."

Snape gazed at Harry. "I did not say I would ask him. I will talk to him when he returns and tell him I'll be adding magical combat training to your lessons."

Harry was shocked that anyone would tell Dumbledore anything like that, but held his tongue. He was about to thank the man when he was interrupted by a voice at the door.

"Us, too," Hermione said. She pushed the door open and the other three crowded in. "We'll all take the lessons with you, Harry."

"What makes you think I will teach you anything, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shifter her weight to lean on one leg and put her hand on her hip. Harry knew that pose and saw by Ron's smirk that the other boy did too. Here comes the logic.

"Well, for one, we're going to be joining the Order as soon as we're old enough, so we'll have to learn it anyway. Plus, if the Death Eaters find this place, we'll be in as much danger as anyone else, so we might as well be able to help. Third-"

Ron interrupted. "Look, there's no way we're letting Harry go off and fight Voldemort alone. We might as well be useful during the fight. But with or without those lessons, we'll be there." Ginny and Neville added their agreement.

"I will allow Miss Granger to join us, as she is unlikely to hold you back, Potter. Longbottom may also attend, though he will likely need tutoring outside of what I will provide." Snape stared at Neville, who promptly turned white. "If you fall behind, you will not be permitted to continue, is that clear?" Neville nodded.

"The Weasleys, however, will need their parents' permission." Ron started to object, and Snape continued. "I will not put up with your mother's incessant screeching. Work it out with her on your own."

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Mrs. Weasley, to no one's surprise, refused to even consider the idea. In fact, Ron and Ginny had endured an hour's lecture on behaving responsibly and keeping themselves safe for just suggesting it to her. That led, of course, to the current planning session as the group decided how best to work Ron and Ginny's parents against each other. Harry, though, was unwilling to help his friends put themselves in danger.

"Oh come off it, Harry," Hermione said. "Honestly, are you mad at all of us or something?"

"Of course not. But I'm the only one who should be worrying about this. None of you are being hunted. I don't want you getting hurt. It would be safer for you to let me handle that on my own."

"Well, obviously that's not going to happen, mate," Ron said.

"Yeah. Sorry if you don't like it, but if we have to follow you around spying on you, we will," Neville added.

"It's your fault anyway, you know," Ginny said and grinned at him. "If you don't want us to protect you, you shouldn't keep acting like someone we want to watch out for. You don't see anyone offering to go to Death Eater meetings with Snape, do you?"

The others laughed. Harry frowned. "No, I guess not."

"You might as well help us get into those lessons, Harry," Ron said. "There's no way you're fighting Voldemort without me. If you don't help me learn how to fight, then you're really putting me in more danger, right?"

Harry finally gave in. He knew his friend was right. And there was something comforting about knowing he would have his friends next to him no matter what came.

"Okay," Harry said. "First of all, you can't tell her what you just said to me. I know it may be true, but you can't tell her that. We need to convince her it's a good idea even if you won't be chasing down Voldemort with me."

"The village," Hermione said. "We're already in danger, right? That's why we were attacked."

"And you need to protect your little sister," Ginny added. The twinkle in her eye reminded Harry of the twins. Yes, she was definitely one of them. "Don't forget to tell her that."

"What about you, though?" Neville asked. "You don't have a little sister to protect."

Ginny shrugged. "I have to protect my big brother. Weasleys look out for each other. Besides, like Hermione said, I'm in danger, and Ron can't be around me all the time."

Cast in that light, Mrs. Weasley's resolve waned and she finally agreed, contingent upon both Ginny and Ron promising they would never go out looking for trouble. Both had made and broken that promise thousands of times, so once more seemed insignificant. Hermione looked smug; Harry worried. His friends were in danger because they had helped him in the Department of Mysteries. Mrs. Weasley had clearly not liked the idea of her children learning magical combat, but the threat to their lives was now unavoidable. How long until people realized Harry was to blame for that?

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That evening, Harry took up Snape's offer to talk. He was not quite sure what he wanted to talk about, though. There were a lot of things going through his head–hings about Snape, things about himself. How odd, he thought, that Snape, of all people, was the person he felt he could be most honest with.

Harry entered Snape's room and sat down in the chair Snape indicated with a nod. The man was reading the same tome from the previous night. He looked up, but Harry was still not sure what he had come in for. After a moment, his attention returned to the book. Harry sat in silence gathering his thoughts. This was new territory for him and Snape, and he had no idea how to start saying the things he wanted to say. Well, he realized, the territory was not entirely new. There had been a few days when he and his teacher had spoken very freely. They had joked and even enjoyed each other's company. Those days seemed long past, but the memory of them made it easier to think of Snape as, well, a human.

Finally, Harry forced himself to say something, anything, to break the silence. "So, uh, Oliver Wood was pretty cute, wasn't he?" He could feel his face turning red and immediately felt like a fool. What a stupid thing to say. Snape, no doubt, agreed.

"What in the world are you talking about, Potter?"

Harry jumped from his chair. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll leave you alone."

"Sit down, Potter." Snape closed his book and leaned back in his chair. His voice softened. "Please, have a seat."

Harry sat back down and stared at his hands. Snape continued. "You have never said it out loud, have you?"

"Said what?"

"There is power in words. There are things that exist in our imaginations and our memories. Things we wish were not there. When we speak of them, they become real. When we say them to others, they solidify. We cannot take them back, and there is now one person in the world who will know your fear. One person to whom you cannot deny your fear. That gives the fear power."

Harry looked up but said nothing.

"But there is another side to the power of words. You know that side. You say his name when no one else does. That gives you power over your fear. That's a power very few others have. When you say his name, it frees you."

Snape fell silent. Harry still did not speak. Finally, Snape again spoke.

"You can say it, Harry. There is freedom on the words. I know."

Harry found his voice. He met Snape's eyes. "I'm gay."

Snape nodded. "There. Your secret is no longer a secret. You cannot untell it, and you cannot deny it. Not to me at least. Therein lies the fear. But you now need never pretend to be something you are not to me. And therein lies the freedom."

Harry smiled in the candlelight. His heart was pounding out the truth in Snape's words. It had felt good to finally say it aloud, even though Snape already knew. He had heard the words coming from his mouth as if someone else had spoken them, and it had felt wonderful to experience.

"I realize, Harry, that I am not the person you would have chosen to be the first to hear that."

"Well, sir, maybe not. But then again, I don't know if I would have told anyone else, either."

"That is unlikely. Eventually you will tell your friends." Harry crossed his arms and tilted back in his chair. His friends were not a topic he felt like talking about. He hated lying to them about this, but the idea of telling them left him cold inside. Snape must have sensed that, though, as he quite effectively took Harry's mind off of it.

"And yes, Mr. Wood was quite a specimen, wasn't he?" Snape smirked. Harry fell back off the chair.

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Author's Notes:

First and foremost, thanks to everyone who took the time to review the story. I really do appreciate it, and it's the reviews that keep me inspired to keep working.

To Mei, Nilu and Devona Wolfe: I think James was an ass in school, though I assume he changed after graduation. As for Harry's fears, as a gay man myself, I don't think it would be possible to grow up gay in today's society and not simply assume that you would have been a disappointment to your parents if they died before you knew them. That's not entirely a rational response, but it's a natural one.

To Devona Wolfe and Xikum: Yes, getting past their past was the hard part. Now the hard part is getting past, well, just about everything else about Snape! But the fun continues.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Some of the things Snape tells Harry may not seem to fit with canon. Bear with me, though. If you read carefully, you'll notice it doesn't really contradict any known facts, though it does contradict what I took to be an assumption made by Dumbledore. I'll get into it more later, just trust me for now.

Re: Draco's Marking. You'll have to wait and see why he took that Mark and what it means for Harry.

Re: Characterizations. Thanks for all the good reviews commenting on Snape and Harry keeping to their characters. It was the challenge of getting them beyond their baggage that made the story interesting to me. Of course, Snape's not a pedophile (in my story at least) so the new challenge is having Harry mature a bit, and Snape seeing him more as an adult.

Aethen

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 9

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After Snape's appraisal of Oliver Wood as a fine specimen, Harry was grateful to see the subject turn quickly to other matters. Still, it was comforting to think that there was someone he could say those things to without worrying about how the other would respond.

"Professor?" Harry asked. "I'm not complaining, but why did you say you would teach everyone combat so quickly? If you don't mind me saying so, you aren't usually that agreeable. And why are you afraid of Mrs. Weasley but not Neville's grandmother?"

"First and foremost, Potter, I am not afraid of any of the Weasley tribe. But I do have to live here for the duration of the summer, and her voice grates enough as it is. As for Mr. Longbottom, I am quite sure I will receive some epistolary tongue lashing. The boy has a right to avenge his parents, though."

"Have you seen them?" Harry focused on the candle's flame. "It's horrible."

Harry turned his eyes to Snape, who was watching him carefully. It was a look that would have made the boy uncomfortable a few months ago; Harry now recognized it as contemplative. With something decided, Snape pulled his wand and cast spell on the walls.

At Harry's curious look, Snape said, "A spell to prevent eavesdroppers." He replaced his wand and went on. "We have something of an unspoken agreement that I would like to. . . formalize. What passes between us in private stays only between us, agreed?"

"Of course, Professor."

"I was there when Bellatrix tortured the Longbottoms." The blood drained from Harry's face. Leave it to Snape to head right into the topic. "I could have stopped it. I did not. Does that disgust you, Mr. Potter?"

"I. . . Well, it disgusts me that it happened, yes. But that you didn't stop it?" Harry frowned and sighed. "I was there when Cedric was killed. I could have stopped that, maybe. But I was too caught up in my own pain and fear that I didn't even think about trying to find my wand until it was too late. I guess I'm not any more disgusted by you than I am of myself."

"An honest answer. It was the Longbottoms, or what happened to them, them finally drove me to where I am now. It is one thing to kill one's enemies. Even to disable them in some way. But either choice, should you have the luxury of the choice, should be the more merciful of the two. And here, perhaps, begins your first lesson in combat. An enemy fighting for his life is easier to kill than to disarm. Humans are fragile creatures, and there are many more things that can end a life than simply hurt someone. In war, we do not have time to gauge our spells to fall within that narrow range of power that will disable but not kill. So we guarantee our own survival at the cost of another's."

Snape conjured two cups of tea and took a sip from one, offering the other to Harry. "When they captured the Longbottoms, they took their wands and bound them. They were no threat to anyone. They could have been killed, too. But the torture they underwent served no purpose. Bellatrix had no reason to suspect that they knew where the Dark Lord was, despite what the Headmaster may have said. But she enjoyed torture and her Lord had just been defeated. It was then that I truly knew I was out of place." Snape's voice grew soft and his attention turned inward. "It was never my intention to be a part of that."

Harry sipped his tea silently. After a few moments, Snape's eyes looked back up at Harry. When he spoke again, his voice was strong as ever. "There is a reason I am telling you this, Mr. Potter. As much as you dislike hearing it, and as much as I dislike acknowledging it, your survival is paramount. I will not refuse Longbottom the chance to take revenge that is rightfully his. But I cannot allow him to hold up your progress. So. . ."

Snape shifted in his chair, and for the first time, Harry recognized discomfort in his teacher's posture. Snape straightened up and said, "I am asking you for a favor." Harry's smirk died quickly under Snape's glare. "Do not let him fall behind. Practice with him, tutor him. Even recruit Granger if you need, but make sure he is as capable as any of the rest of you. Convince him how important it is any way you must, but do not repeat what was said in here."

"I'll make sure he's ready, Professor. I don't think it'll take much, though. He was great in the Department of Mysteries. I think you just make him nervous."

Snape leaned forward. "That's not good enough, Harry. Bellatrix Lestrange is truly evil. As evil as the Dark Lord ever was, just not as strong." He leaned back into his chair and casually sipped his tea. "Whereas I am just a nasty git."

Harry laughed. "Be careful, Professor. I'm nearly convinced you have a sense of humor."

"Nonsense."

Harry chuckled. He considered what Snape had told him and asked, "So, is that why were you willing to teach everyone else? So Neville could get revenge and the rest could help him keep up?"

"Not entirely, but for the most part."

Harry waited to see if Snape would elaborate, but was disappointed. What he really wanted to know, though, was what had driven Snape to believe that his place was at Voldemort's side in the first place. He knew part of that decision lay with his father, but he felt it somehow important to know the rest. Now was not the time to ask, though. This truce–no it was now more than a truce–whatever it was, it was not far enough along to broach that topic.

Eventually, the conversation turned to the new training they would be undertaking, and Harry asked Snape if he knew what kind of things he would be teaching.

"The primary difference between real combat and dueling is that dueling has rules dictating what is considered acceptable magic and just as important, that duelists take turns in their attack. The theory is the same. Therefore, most of the spells I will teach you are of the type you would see in a duel. I will not be teaching you any dark spells."

Harry nodded. "I didn't really expect that. But, the Death Eaters don't really play fair, do they? So we still need to know more than just how to duel without taking turns."

"First and foremost, get rid of the word 'fair' from your vocabulary. Legal and illegal are concerns sometimes. Perhaps even moral and immoral, though that is debatable, but fair is something even a Gryffindor must realize has no place outside of a duel."

"Even a Gryffindor?" Harry raised an eyebrow in imitation of Snape and knew he had no chance of pulling it off. Snape smirked at him.

"Yes, even a thick-headed Gryffindor. The rules of dueling were created originally to determine who was the more powerful wizard. One spell at a time until one of them lost. You will be fighting wizards more powerful than you, so the idea of fair in dueling terms will leave you dead. In more recent years, the rules of dueling were tightened to limit the chance of fatal injury. Obviously, that is out of the question as well. It certainly will not be a concern for your opponents."

"So how do I make up for my woefully inadequate skills?" Harry risked a playful tone.

"Three things. Smart defenses, which primarily means knowing when ducking is better than a counter-spell. Stealth, which is knowing when and how to strike before you're seen. Do not look at me like that. Even your beloved Godric Gryffindor knew how to lure an enemy into a trap."

Harry chuckled and asked, "And the third?"

Snape stood up and his hands disappeared into his heavy robes. With the hiss of fabric on fabric, he pulled out a belt strung with small bags. When the Potions Master set the load on the table, Harry realized that what he had thought were bags were actually about two dozen cloth covered bottles. Arranged in size order with the largest in back and the smallest looping around on both sides to meet the buckle, the vials were stoppered with an odd assortment of lids, corks and plugs. Harry leaned in for a closer look.

"One of the many secrets I harbor," Snape said. "Even the Dark Lord does not know I carry so many potions on me. They range from sedatives to poisons, acids to explosives, and all manner of antidotes. You, at least, will wear a similar one before the summer has ended. And perhaps the others as well."

"And the corks?"

"Mostly devices of my own making. They allow the potions to be used in the most efficient manner. Glass or metal for those that react with wooden cork, various shapes and attachments depending on need. For instance," Snape said, pulling one of the larger bottles from its place and setting it on the table. Harry had not noticed it before, but the cork was indeed oddly shaped. It was actually two corks joined together. The second cork capped a much smaller vial and sported a loop of metal. "One can break the two apart before using, or simply hold the vial in one's hand and pitch the larger at a target. The cork will break easily enough. Then. . ." Snape hooked his thumb through the metal ring and used it to pull the cork free, leaving the vial in his closed fist. "Poison." He indicated the bigger bottle. "Antidote." He tapped the vial and replaced the cork.

Harry jerked back away from the table. "No offense, Professor, but just when I think you can't get any scarier. . ."

"Yes well," Snape said as he buckled the belt around him again. "It's a living, I suppose."

Harry laughed again. Yes, Snape may very well have a sense of humor. Imagine.

As if he had heard Harry's thoughts and was distressed at the idea, Snape became serious again. "The members of the Order do not know I carry the belt either. It is not that I distrust them, but if my duplicity is made known, I fully intend to use every last bottle when brought before the Dark Lord."

Harry nodded his understanding and asked, "Then why tell us about it, sir?"

Snape frowned at him, and Harry suddenly felt like he had just added powdered newt brain into the wrong cauldron. "Honestly, Potter, while I may have said otherwise in the past, you are, in truth, not a complete imbecile."

Harry creased his brow. Somehow, Snape telling him he was not an imbecile made him feel more like one, as he had no idea what the man was getting at.

"Harry, I have been given a single directive by the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters are mobilized in force carrying out countless plans and seeing to all manner of atrocities, yet, I, one of his most trusted servants, have a single task to complete on the first day of school. And it is expected that every waking moment between now and then be spent in preparation of that task."

Harry blinked. He had never considered what Snape's order had meant. He knew the Potions Master would not carry out the order to kill him, so he had just forgotten about it. But Voldemort would not forget. And when the second day of school arrived and Harry was still alive-

Harry stood up. "No," he said. "I won't-"

"Do not say it, Potter." Snape's casual tone was gone, his voice was even, the words were as cold and clear as ice, and seated before Harry was everything about Snape that had ever made him frightened and uneasy. Here was the look that convinced every student from first to seventh year that the Potions Master was deadly. "I have seen that look on Gryffindors before, Potter, and I forbid you to finish that sentence. Save yourself. Make your promises to those who have a hope of living through this; do not waste them on me. Save yourself, and you will save the world. The only thing that matters any more is your survival. I will be dead at the end of the summer. You will be as capable of surviving as I can make you."

Harry was trembling, but his eyes hardened. He did not have to speak the words to make his promise. He would find a way to save Snape. Too many people had already given their lives to save his. He refused to sell the souls of others to buy himself another day. Harry said nothing as he left the room.

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Breakfast the next morning was a raucous occasion. Mrs. Weasley had left early after giving Snape a stern talking-to about what kinds of things were appropriate for her children to learn. Harry had thought that the twins had proven quite adept at finding knowledge they should not have, but did not point that out. He knew Snape must have been thinking the same, but the Potions Master apparently chose the quieter course as well. Tonks, resting up from an evening spent doing things "better left to us to worry about" volunteered to help out with the first day of training. Mrs. Weasley had looked relieved at the younger woman's presence, but when Mundungus Fletcher stomped into the room and made the same offer, the redhead forbade him from so much as giving advice to Snape while the children were not present.

"At least Professor Snape knows what is appropriate for them to learn. You, on the other hand, have never had an appropriate thought in your life! And on second thought, I don't want you even in the house with them when I'm not here." Dung's eyes twinkled as the woman worked herself into a fury. "You're coming with me today, Fletcher. I'll show you how to actually pay for what you're shopping for."

"Sounds like a grand time. We can visit some friends of mine in Knockturn Alley." Mundungus laughed and Mrs. Weasley looked mortified as the dirt-covered wizard stood from the table and led the way out.

Harry and the others finished breakfast in high spirits. Ron speculated on what spells they would be learning while Hermione counted how many of them would likely show up on their N.E.W.Ts. Ginny and Tonks were talking about how much harder it was for women to be taken on as Aurors, and Neville sat beside Harry looking quite terrified.

Once things quieted down, Snape, who had been sipping tea quietly, cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter. We have your lessons to attend to. Miss Tonks, will you bring the rest to the attic and find a suitable room? Have the children clear all the furniture from the room without magic." Ron groaned. Snape looked down at the boy and said, "There will certainly be a good deal of dust as well. Have them clean the room without magic as well."

"Yes, Professor Snape." Tonks made a show of curtseying to Snape, which earned her a few stifled chuckles. With a gesture to the rest to follow, she left the kitchen. Snape and Harry headed to the library. Ron muttered, "Lucky git," at he passed Harry. Harry chose the mature path and merely stuck his tongue out at his friend.

In the library, Snape took his customary seat and said, "I hope you do not mistake your exclusion from cleaning the attic as some kind of favor."

"Of course not, sir," Harry replied. Harry sat down and considered how Snape's disposition seemed to change hourly. He was never sure if the man was going to offer some small kindness or go out of his way to make sure Harry knew he was no one special. "I can't be two places at once, and you probably don't want to wait around up there while I help them move stuff." Snape nodded and sat back into the chair.

The lesson was mostly a discussion of theory rather than practice. Snape wanted as many details about Harry's episode the other day as the boy could give. To Harry's frustration, those details seemed few and vague. He was embarrassed to admit that his own misery had clouded everything else. He did not need Snape to tell him that it was that misery that had probably led to the situation.

"Is that why you never seem to have any emotions?" Harry asked. As the words came out, Harry regretted them. The question had been asked out of curiosity, but to his own ears they sounded harsh and insulting. Snape raised an eyebrow, but took the question as it was intended.

"To say I do not have emotions would be false. But yes, I exercise control over them, in part, due to the Mark and the bond it creates with the Dark Lord. You must remember, however, that the bond I possess is under his control to a much greater extent. My bond is not as strong, I believe. And it certainly does not allow the kind of connection that yours does. He cannot use the Mark the way he used your scar last year, for instance. And I cannot use mine the way you have. He would know immediately if I attempted to so much as brush his mind."

Harry furrowed his brow. "How can he tell that with your bond, if it's so much weaker than mine?"

"The Mark behaves as he wishes it to. He would not willingly bind himself to anyone unless he had complete control over the mechanism. The bond you share with him was anything but voluntary."

"I wouldn't have picked it if I had the choice." Harry rubbed at his scar. "Does that mean he can break your bond if you wants?"

"It has never been done, that I am aware. But I have always assumed so. He would be concerned that the bond could be used against him somehow and would have planned for that contingency. He has survived this long by always having a plan for escape."

Harry considered that. If there was a way to free Snape, the knowledge would be somewhere in Voldemort's own mind, and probably nowhere else. Voldemort would not have shared that information with anyone. He looked up guiltily when Snape asked, "Why are you so concerned with how my bond works, Potter?"

It was not _ quite _ a lie when Harry said, "It's the closest thing to my scar that I know of. If it works the same way, then the more I know about the Mark, the more I know about what I'm dealing with. I'm not too fond of getting sucked into Vol-" Harry noticed Snape flinch minutely and stopped short. "The Dark Lord's mind."

"Then you must learn to control your mind better. You are getting better at resisting normal Legilemency, but when your emotions are running high, you leave yourself open to his mind."

"But my shields were up the whole time," Harry said. "Right up until I–left my body or whatever it is–I could feel my shields up. They probably weren't as steady as they could have been, but it was more like I slipped through them. Or everything happened inside the shields. Besides, later the shields were still intact, and I know I didn't put them up between when I lost consciousness and when I woke up."

Snape stood and walked to a bookcase. "And no doubt the Dark Lord's shields are significantly stronger than yours, yet you keep slipping through his. Those shields should help against any active probing, but you are being affected by something much more subtle. As I pointed out earlier, strong emotions, specifically strong negative emotions, seem to cause it on a subconscious level. Rather than slipping through your shields, it would be better to say you slip under them."

It had never occurred to Harry to wonder why Voldemort's own shields, which he would certainly maintain, were not keeping Harry out of his mind. "But that means he can enter my mind, doesn't it?"

"In theory, yes." Harry grew suddenly ill at Snape's response. "However, it seems that is not happening. The visions he sent you last year were done before you could block your mind effectively from him. Judging by your description of the pain involved I would say that he attacked your mind and managed to win through your shields."

"That's what I thought, too. But he doesn't seem to know I'm in his mind when I do it accidentally. I wouldn't know he's there if he did it the same way, right?"

"No, you wouldn't. But the fact that I am still alive implies that he has not done so." Harry looked away from Snape in a panic. Snape laughed. "Albus and I have already discussed the possibility, and we are both satisfied that the risk is nearly nonexistent. You cannot spend the next two months staring at the floor, Potter."

"But I don't want to-"

"You won't, Harry." Harry met Snape's gaze again. "The Dark Lord is likely unaware of the possibility. And were he aware, he would not use it. He would never leave his physical form so unprotected. Indeed, Albus believes he would be unable to do so. His mind and soul are bound to this body in ways normal humans are not. It is, as you know, not his first body. He may not be able to leave it due to the spells keeping him in place."

"And you and Dumbledore are sure he can't?"

"As sure as we can be, yes. Sure enough that I'm sitting here across from you."

That would have to do.

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Following the Occlumency lessons, which had moved to focus more on ways Harry could keep his feelings in check, the two climbed the stairs to the attic. Tonks had taken charge and shown little mercy, apparently, as they found Harry's friends in the wide room at the end of the hall. The bare walls and floors showed a faded maze that had once twisted around old furniture. There was no dust to be found, though, aside from the light coating that Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville sported on their robes. They were all four sweating and breathing heavily, leaving Harry to assume they had not finished much earlier than Harry and Snape.

"Well," Snape said. "I see you have all had a chance to rest up. Excellent. Please stand." And with that introduction, Snape took all five students through a rigorous series of curses and counter-curses. Each of them was paired up, in turns, with Snape and Tonks. Harry was sure that the N.E.W.Ts could not possibly be more exhausting than what they went through.

Finally, after three hours with no break, Tonks and Snape looked as rested as they had at breakfast. Harry was unsure he would be able to move until dinner, and Ron was laying down beneath the room's only window. His chest was moving, so Harry was assured the boy was still living.

"That was not fun," Neville said after the Auror and their instructor had left. Ginny responded with a groan.


	10. Chapter 10

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 10

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After a lunch punctuated by gasps brought on by sore muscles, Harry pulled Hermione into the parlor. Things between the two had been strained for days, and while he still worried about the girl's curiosity, he also knew he needed it. He had a theory that only Hermione could help with.

"Feel like some extra homework?" Harry asked with a grin.

Hermione grinned back and sat down. "I knew you were up to something." Her satisfied emphasis on "knew" and "something" grated on Harry.

"I'm always up to something. Don't you read the _ Daily Prophet_?" Hermione laughed, and Harry kept talking, hoping she wouldn't interrupt in another one of her know-it-all tones. "Anyway, I need your help."

"Yes, well. . ." Hermione said. _ Of course you need my help. I told you so. _ Harry filled in the unspoken chide. He gave her credit for not saying it, though.

"I was talking to Snape before about the Dark Mark and my scar, and I think maybe they're more alike than even he realizes. Or Voldemort." Anything in Hermione's posture that had been smug melted as she entered full-on–take-no-prisoners–study-mode.

"What did he say? No, wait." Hermione jumped up and led Harry up to her room where she readied a stack of parchment and row of quills.

"You're taking notes?" Harry laughed. By now, Ron and the rest had sensed something was up and joined them.

"Harry, it's not like there are any books written on the Dark Mark. As much as anyone can tell, it's a completely unique spell and only he knows how to create it. And since you're the first person to survive a killing curse like that, the few books on that were just speculation. No one could study you or the scar."

"There were books written about my scar?"

"A few. None by any really important wizards. I don't think Dumbledore wanted anyone to figure too much out about it since he knew Voldemort would be coming back. Most of the best theoretical wizards are either loyal to him or Voldemort. And none of _ his _ people are going to write a book about it. So none of the books are likely to be very useful."

"You've read all of them?" Neville asked.

Hermione looked insulted by the question. "Of course I have."

"Now, Harry, tell me _everything_." Harry knew by her tone that it was going to be a long afternoon.

By the time they were called down to dinner, Hermione had recorded everything Snape had told Harry about the Dark Mark as well as everything Harry had experienced about his own scar. As they made their way down the stairs to the kitchen, Ron asked, "Hermione? What exactly do you want to do with that book you just wrote?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, but Harry's got some plan, don't you, Harry?"

"Wait a minute. You just spent hours asking about every tiny little thing you could think of, and you don't even know why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the redhead. "Well, it doesn't matter, does it? You can never tell what little bit of information is going to be useful, so it's best to have all of it. We'll figure out what to do with it after dinner."

Everyone quieted as they entered the kitchen. Their sudden silence was greeted with a suspicious glare from Mrs. Weasley.

After dinner, Snape descended upon the kitchen and left a worried Harry in his wake as Hermione was whisked into the parlor. Later, Hermione emerged from the room behind the glowering teacher.

"I trust you understand, Miss Granger, that neither I nor Headmaster Dumbledore will tolerate any disobedience in this matter."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said in what Harry recognized as her most innocent voice. Harry was still worried.

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Severus swept back to his room silently. The girl had not been lying, not really. But she was not telling the entire truth. The Potions Master growled as he slammed his door shut. He knew the students below would hear the bang and took a moment of pleasure imagining their winces. Potter was plotting again, and this time the boy was going to try to save the last man in the world he should be worried about.

"Stupid child," he said quietly as he set several cauldrons to heat. He needed to calm down, and nothing was as relaxing as a nice brewing session. "He's trying to save the world one wizard at a time, and he's going to get himself killed." This latest turn of events had Snape worried that he'd made a mistake in agreeing to these new combat lessons. For that matter, it would have been best if Snape had simply gone on hating the boy as he always had. The child had been so easily blinded by his dislike of the older man in the past that he never would have realized the danger Snape was truly in had Snape wanted to keep it secret.

But Snape had not wanted to keep it a secret. Not entirely. His solitude was as much necessity as preference, and the boy was so damned easy to talk to sometimes. It was no wonder the wizarding world vacillated between hero-worship and fear where the boy was concerned. It was hard not to like him. But the same could be said of the Dark Lord before he had been twisted into that inhuman thing he now was.

"Stupid child," he said again, then corrected himself quietly. "Not a child any longer, though." The boy was indeed growing up. About damned time, too. He could actually be seen showing restraint when it came to his friends. His brainless courage and loyalty had given Dumbledore no end of sleepless nights. It was good to see him finally realizing that there were others more suited to some tasks.

But therein was the real problem. There was one task that Harry, and only Harry, could manage. Had the boy ever given any serious thought to anything beyond facing the Dark Lord? As far as Snape knew, he hadn't. He had heard from Minerva that Harry had hopes of becoming an Auror, but did he really expect to see that come to fruition? Or had that been the first answer to the question he knew Umbridge, the imbecile, would find troubling? Snape had no idea.

Still, Harry would make a decent Auror if he outlived his nemesis. Dark Wizards would turn themselves in rather than face the one who defeated the Dark Lord. Of course, his future as an Auror depended on him doing better in Potions than Snape believed possible. Perhaps that should be added to the growing syllabus. Severus had achieved miraculous results in the past, and cramming some kind of proficiency in potion brewing into Harry's enormously thick skull would be a crowning achievement.

It would have to be just Harry, though. The other brats were still just barely tolerable when their instructor had them working too hard to talk. Anything more than an hour or two a day with all of them would have him looking forward to the start of term and a slow death at the Dark Lord's hands. Snape grinned cruelly at his private little insult, then blinked. Harry Potter had managed to be come the least objectionable company this forsaken manor had to offer. Merlin help them all. Besides, tutoring the young man would likely drag out the summer endlessly. And truth be told, Severus Snape was in no particular hurry to die.

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The group filed into Harry's room and looked at Harry expectantly.

"He asked me if I was helping you with anything dangerous. I told him you hadn't asked me to help with anything at all. I think he was using Legilemency on me. I guess it's good dinner was a little early today and you didn't have time to tell me what you want. But he definitely knows something's up."

"Speaking of that," Ginny said, "what is up?"

"I was thinking that if Voldemort could control the bond he has with the Death Eaters, maybe I can learn how he does it."

"Like read his mind?" Neville asked.

"No." Harry shivered. "I doubt I could do that without him knowing I was there. Right now I think it's more like I'm looking through a window. I don't even know if I could get that far into his mind. And I don't think I'd want to anyway." Nods greeted the last.

"If nothing's been written about the Dark Mark, how can you learn anything about it?" Ron asked.

"Well, that's what I need help with, isn't it? I was there in his head when he marked Draco. I didn't really find anything out, though." Harry blushed.

"If it was that painful, Harry, you shouldn't feel bad. He probably makes it extra bad just to make them scream," Ginny leaned over touched his arm.

Harry nodded. "I suppose so. And that's really the first problem we need to solve. Why do I always feel his victim's pain? I'm in his head, not theirs."

"Can You-Know-Who feel it too?" Neville asked.

"I bet he does," Hermione said before Harry could answer. "It doesn't make sense otherwise, does it? I thought about this last year when Harry's visions were so bad. Harry, if you were connected to the Death Eaters somehow, through your scar and their Mark, you'd feel it whenever he was manipulating all the Marks at once, like calling them to him. But you don't. I think he can feel what they feel through the Mark."

"Why in the world would he want to do that? It's horrible."

"Well, I'm not sure about that," Hermione chewed on a lock of hair. "But there can be any number of reasons. Maybe it's just for more control. Maybe he enjoys it. Maybe it doesn't bother him." Harry grew pale. "It's not like he's normal. But the point is, I think Harry's feeling it through Voldemort, so Voldemort must be feeling it too."

"If that's true," Harry said, not yet willing to take Hermione's feeling as fact, "then I can't go through another Marking without experiencing all of it. And there's no way I'll be able to pay attention to what he's doing."

Neville sat upright. "Maybe you can block the pain." The boy slumped back into his seat and looked suddenly uncomfortable. Harry was curious about what his friend had in mind, but decided not to pursue it. He noticed Ron open his mouth and close it, apparently thinking the same thing as Harry. There was a part of Neville's life that neither boy would press him into talking about, and they were always worried about doing so unintentionally.

Hermione, though, had other plans. "Is that possible? It's not real pain Harry's feeling."

"They gave my parents something." Neville's voice dropped low and he stared down at the empty table next to him. Hermione's eyes grew wide as she frowned.

"I'm sorry, Neville. If you don't want to talk about it. . ." Hermione looked away from him and reached for a piece of parchment. "There's a lot of other questions anyway."

"No, it's okay," Neville said. "It doesn't happen as much any more, but my parents used to have flashbacks of when. . . Well, flashbacks. My dad more than my mom, really. The normal pain potions didn't work because it was just the memory of the pain. His body was okay. I don't know how it works, but maybe I can find out what it's called."

"It's worth trying," Ron said. "But what do you have in mind, Harry?"

"Snape said that Voldemort can probably break the bond between him and his Death Eaters. What if I learn how to do that? Even if I can't, who knows what I could manage. But I won't know anything unless I can figure out how he's doing it."

Hermione chewed the end of her quill. "If you could break all the bonds, I wonder how many wouldn't go back to him. Maybe Professor Snape isn't the only wizard who's changed their mind. And if you could do them all at once, we could attack Voldemort and he wouldn't be able to call for help."

"You mean the Order could attack him," Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's not get into that again Harry. Fine, the Order could attack him."

Harry let the argument drop. He was running short on time. "We need to figure this all out before the summer's over."

"That's going to be hard, Harry. We can't really get away with much here, can we? What's the rush?" Ginny asked.

"If Draco took the Mark, other Slytherins probably did, too. I don't know if Dumbledore will let Draco back in to Hogwarts, but I want to know as much as I can before we get back to school." Harry hadn't really considered anything about Draco's taking the Mark. He'd always assumed his classmate would. But he did not want to let his friends in on his real plan yet. They would not understand why he wanted to help Snape. Ron had an odd expression on his face but said nothing. His friends, naturally, took him at his word.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry was having a hard time remembering why he wanted to save Snape's life.

"What exactly was the point of that little maneuver, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"I, uh. . ." Harry stood up hesitantly as Snape's magical cords fell from his arms and legs. "I wasn't sure what spell that was, so I thought I'd be better off just getting out of your way." Harry looked up to see Ron's face caught between a laugh and a glare directed at Snape.

"And why did your theory not work?" Snape asked.

"You got a second spell off faster than I thought you could."

"Mr. Longbottom, what is Mr. Potter missing here?"

Neville's eyes grew wide and his wand shook slightly. "You only actually cast one spell, Professor. The first one failed."

Harry blinked. "Oh."

"I do not fail, Mr. Longbottom." The boy grew white and Snape turned back to Harry. "The first spell was not a spell at all. It was gibberish. I anticipated your reaction and prepared to bind you after you dodged."

Harry blushed. For the past hour, Snape had proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that Harry's survival up to this point had been almost entirely a matter of luck.

"Note," Snape said to the group, "that particular trick will not work against a Death Eater with any amount of training. Any spell you know, they will know as well. And they are quite accustomed to trickery. They may, however, use the ploy against you, counting on your exceedingly limited skills in order to succeed. As such, I have prepared an assignment for you all." He gestured toward the door and several stacks of parchment appeared. The students groaned, even Hermione.

"Listed for you are all the spells you are likely to encounter in a fight. They include curses, hexes, charms, and transfigurations. Most are perfectly legal. The last few pages, however, list various spells banned for one reason or another. You are not to attempt any spells on these lists, legal or illegal. Is that clear?" He waited for everyone to acknowledge the rule before going on. "Beginning next week, you will be tested on your knowledge of the list. Any member of the Order here may shout a spell at you. They will not cast, but you will react as if your life depends on it. If the spell is real, you will either dodge the mock attack or respond, in words only–no wands–with an appropriate counterspell. If it is not a spell on the list, you will not respond in any way at all."

"And if we're wrong, Professor?" Ginny spoke up.

"Then you will write eighteen inches on the use of the spell in question."

Hermione's hand shot up. Sheepishly, she lowered it and asked, "What if it's an imaginary spell? If we react to something someone makes up, how can we write about what it's used for?"

"You will have to develop a good imagination, won't you?"

Ron leaned over to the girl. "Shoulda stayed in Divination. Harry and I are experts at imaginary answers, aren't we Harry?" Ron quickly quieted at Snape's curled lip. Harry smiled, though, as he had learned to recognize that particular curl as a sign of amusement. The moment did not last, however.

"On to barrier spells," Snape said. With an economical twitch of his wand, Snape summoned a translucent shield that hovered before him for several seconds before fading. "This spell will protect against several types of blasting curses."

Harry managed the shield with only a little difficulty. Hermione, of course, picked it up slightly before him. Once the two had it, Snape told them he had something to attend to and would return shortly. Harry watched the Potions Master leave, not entirely sure that the man had not left them to give Harry and Hermione a chance to give Neville, at least, some help. Hermione took Neville aside and Harry worked with Ron and Ginny. Ron needed little coaching, and Harry was impressed by the focus his friend showed. Normally, Ron had a hard time putting much effort into spells. After ten minutes, it was Ginny who was still having difficulty.

"It's no surprise," Neville said to the frustrated girl. "You're a year behind us. You'll get it. Watch me again." With a look of intense concentration, Neville called up a shield. It lasted almost as long as Snape's had before wavering and finally fading away.

"Focus a few feet in front of you, and picture the shield appearing there," Neville said.

As Harry watched his friend helping Ginny, Hermione nudged him. "We should ask Neville to tutor Ginny. Maybe he'll do better if he's concentrating on learning it to help Ginny."

"Worth a shot," Harry said. That was another promise he'd made to Snape he intended to keep. If Neville never got to avenge his parents, it would not be because Harry had given up on him.

Snape returned shortly and immediately began testing their mastery of the shield by throwing spells at them. All but Ginny managed to deflect at least a few of their instructor's attacks, and Harry took some pride in noting that he blocked more than he let through.

Finally, Ginny looked ready to start throwing hexes back at Snape. Snape gave no indication that he noticed or cared about the girl's frustration, but called a halt to their practice session. Harry dared to consider that the man was sparing her.

"It is time for lunch," Snape said and turned to leave. "I trust, Miss Weasley, you will overcome your ancestry and master the shield spell before tomorrow's lessons." So much for Ginny being spared. "And Mr. Potter, you will join me in my room in an hour."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Severus set up an older cauldron on a table opposite his work area, leaving as much space as the bedroom allowed between his delicate work and the boy. Harry had picked up the shield spell with little enough fuss. He knew the boy had his parents' gift for magic. And his victories over Snape's own house on the Quidditch pitch was proof enough that he was not entirely uncoordinated. Few wizards ever demonstrated the kind of finesse that made one a Potions Master, but Harry was barely competent at best. He should be doing better.

A hesitant knock announced the boy's presence. Snape quickly explained to him that he would be receiving potions instruction in the afternoons. He could tell the boy had questions and some of them he did not want to answer, so he quickly showed Harry where he would be working and gave him his first assignment: a fairly simple potion that he knew Harry had never been able to brew successfully.

In minutes, Snape had nearly snatched the knife from Harry's hand. _ At least I can be sure that Harry himself is infuriating me this time, and not his father._ "What in the world are you doing, Potter?"

"You said to chop the skins," Harry said. Snape could tell his student was honestly puzzled and not deliberately trying to anger him.

"I did not," Snape said. Harry looked confused, then quickly grabbed his instructions. "I said chop them in fine, even pieces. I did not say to hack at them as though you were suffering through some kind of fit."

Harry sighed. "Yes, sir. Sorry sir." The boy pulled several more lizard skins from the box and took to slicing them stiffly. Snape leaned against the wall and watched for a few moments.

"Why do insist on not following my directions, then get surly when I point out your mistakes?" Snape asked. Harry continued his work on the skins, his posture screaming annoyance. After a few moments of silence, Snape persisted. "Do you intend to answer me?"

Harry did not look up. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't think you wanted me to answer that. It's hard to know which parts of your instructions are there because the potion won't work and which are there so you can take points off when we don't follow them."

"Every instruction I give is given for a reason. However, I do not take points off for slouching or stirring the potion improperly if the actual brewing is being done correctly." Why he felt the need to defend himself to Harry, he did not know.

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. He had not taken his eyes off the cutting board.

"You were going to say something?"

"It's not important."

"Humor me."

Harry put his knife down and looked up at Snape. "I was going to say that you never took points off for Slytherins when they didn't cut their ingredients the right way. So like I said, it's hard to tell sometimes."

"Continue with your chopping." Snape schooled his features as he watched the boy smile almost imperceptibly. No doubt he believed he had scored a victory. It worried the instructor that they were falling back into their old habits. Harry worked in silence as Snape reflected on that familiar routine. It had started in Potions class, so it only made sense that any lingering vestiges would be simmering in a cauldron rather than floating in a pensieve or blasting holes through shield spells. Harry was taking the work seriously now, though. He gathered several long, uniform slices and started chopping them into fine pieces. The way he held his knife was unusual, similar to the manner in which he held his wand. His slender fingers curled around the handle and guided the blade, but his arm provided the power. Snape watched the tendons in Harry's forearms tighten and relax and, for a brief moment, recognized the grace that he had secretly admired in Harry's Quidditch playing.

Severus pushed himself off the wall and went to his own work area. Putting a cauldron on heat, Snape softened his voice and spoke. "Do you know why it matters? The size and uniformity of the skin, that is." He trusted Harry would recognize the tone and not mistake the question for a challenge or sarcastic commentary.

"No, I don't," Harry said. There was a hint of something in his voice. Disappointment? Worry? Regardless of what it was, the answer bothered Snape. Was it possible that Harry honestly did not know? A month ago, he would have cursed the boy for being a fool and given him up as hopeless. But he could no longer indulge in that game. Anything that basic that Harry did not know about potions indicated a failure on his teacher's part. And as he had told Mr. Longbottom, Severus did not fail.

Harry had stirred the chopped skins into the cauldron when Snape returned to his table and moved the cauldron off the fire. "Leave that for now, Harry." The young man looked up at him and Snape could sense him tense up defensively. He was waiting to be scolded. Instead of berating Harry, Snape reached past his student and scooped up some of Harry's original skins. "The skins contain several proteins. One reacts with the dragon saliva to neutralize the poison within it. That makes the potion safe to consume. The other speeds up the primary reaction. When the pieces are not uniform, the reactions do not take place evenly, and the poison remains dangerous. Similarly, when the pieces are too large, the catalyst effect of the skins works before the neutralizing agent is steeped from within the larger pieces and again, the potion retains its poisonous quality."

"Oh." Harry reached into Snape's cupped hand and lifted several pieces. "That makes sense."

"Now, hand me some of that septentrional lichen."


	11. Chapter 11

Unforgivable Promises

**A/N: Wow, thanks so much to everyone who's taken the time to review. It means a lot to me to know that so many people are enjoying this story. I'm certainly enjoying writing it!**

Aethen 

Chapter 11

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Harry's life quickly entered a routine at Grimmauld Place. In his mind, he had split the day between Voldemort, school, and Snape. Mornings were dedicated to defeating Voldemort, and afternoons were spent in, as Ron had called it, Remedial Potions. Evenings were for Snape, though neither the Potions Master nor his friends knew that. They would have tagged their after-dinner studies for Voldemort; Harry's focus was much more narrow. Yes, there was a chance that if they could discover the secret of the Markings, Harry could use that to weaken Voldemort's power base. But that was never where the young wizard's attention was gathered.

So far, he had given little thought to actually fighting the Dark Lord. He knew it would happen eventually; the prophecy had guaranteed that. But he had no idea what his part would actually be. Was it something only he could do? Or was it simply that he would be in the right place at the right time to do what anyone else, in the same situation, could do? The prophecy had not exactly been specific.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A week after his first potions session, Harry reflected that the tutoring was going much better than he had expected. He was even having a hard time remembering why the class had been such a problem for him in the past.

"I can't believe I couldn't get this right last year," Harry said. He was just bottling the remains of his hair growth potion. His previous attempt, one of the first potions of the term, had sent both Harry and Ron to the infirmary for an emergency dose of Binny Birtleberry's Back Hair Vanishing Cream. This try, though, had properly contained its effects to Harry's head and limited the growth to only a few inches. To Harry's dismay, longer locks proved just as unruly but slightly more distracting than his old style, so a quick charm had him looking like his old self.

"Well," Snape said. "I imagine it is easier to concentrate without Granger and Weasley here."

"I suppose," Harry said. "And it's nice not having Malfoy around distracting me either."

"Have a thing for blonds, do you?" Snape raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Not bloody likely," Harry said. A week ago, that would have had Harry blushing, but he was finally getting used to such questions. In truth, he enjoyed being able to talk about things like that without worrying about how someone would respond. He secretly suspected Snape enjoyed it as well but hid it behind the excuse of trying to embarrass Harry.

"Anyway, even if I did like blonds, he's not my type. If I wanted to date someone who took hours to dress and fix their hair, I could just go out with a girl." Harry put the bottle in a box holding a surprising number of successfully brewed potions. A frown creased his face when he turned around. "Professor, how much do Voldemort's recruits know about what he's like before they take the Mark?"

Snape looked up from his own work. "In what way? Clearly they all know what he wants to accomplish."

"I mean. . ." Harry's gaze swept the room aimlessly. "Well, I've read some of the historical stuff about what he did before I was born. Most of it talks about him using the Dark Arts and being responsible for a lot of deaths, but it's not very specific."

"You are speaking of the things you have seen and felt him do."

"Yeah, I guess. Do they know how much he enjoys torturing innocent people? Do they know the kinds of things they're going to have to do for him?"

"To some extent, yes. Some know more than others, depending on how they come to him in the first place."

Harry frowned and began cleaning up his work space.

"Draco knows." Harry detected an unmistakable tone of regret in Snape's voice. "He knows what he'll be asked to do. He knows what kind of horrors he will witness. His father raised a fine copy of himself, Harry. Draco knows what he's doing, and he wanted the Mark."

"I thought you didn't know he was going to be Marked."

"I did not know it would happen so soon. But I am a Legilemens, Harry. I can tell you today which students, Slytherin and otherwise, would accept the Mark if it were offered. And I know which students know truly what that means."

"How can they know and still want to be a part of that?"

"These children were raised in the Dark Lord's shadow, Harry. When I first knew him, he was a charismatic leader with ideas that could have changed all of the wizarding world, and not all of them in bad ways. But the true Dark Arts corrupt. He lost his ideals and dreamed only of gaining more power. By the time that was clear to the rest of us, we had already been Marked and our choices limited. And not a few of his closest supporters had also been corrupted by the same forces. He was once a political and social cause. He is now a religion. And a child raised in that fanaticism defines morality through their idol's words. It is not wrong if the Dark Lord says it is right."

"So there's no hope for any of them?"

"Hope for those who would gladly see you dead?"

Harry frowned at Snape's words. Even now, with all of Voldemort's forces seeking him, Harry could not help but pity most of them. A few he hated. Those he had met at the Ministry of Magic were easy to despise. But the rest? How many were tricked into service? How many were born to it and knew no better?

"I see no hope for them, Harry. Those of my generation, perhaps. Surely I am not the only one with doubts. But Draco was never given a chance. He was lost the day he was born."

"Have other students taken the Mark?" Harry had to know but dreaded the answer.

"I do not know. I was not informed of Draco's Marking, after all, " Snape said. "The identities of Death Eaters are protected for as long as is reasonable. If there has been no need for me to know, I will not have been told. I suspect, however, that Draco is the first. His father was and remains a valued advisor, and my opinion on Draco's loyalty is unnecessary. His Marking is likely a precursor to more students being inducted."

"They would do that without you?"

"Not if I remain in his favor, no. If other students are Marked without my knowledge, that is a better indication of mistrust." Snape turned an empty bottle over in his hands as his gaze lingered on the glass surface. "I have been called to the Dark Lord. He wishes to see me tomorrow night for an unusually long meeting." Harry blanched.

Snape saw Harry's face turn white and nearly smiled, amused. "There is little danger. If he has some proof that I am a traitor, he would not wait a day to see me dead. If he only suspects, then the task he has set for the new school year would reveal me, and in the mean time, he would use me to feed bad information to the Order. That he specifically informed me I would be with him for at least a day is also encouraging. He expects me to have a reasonable excuse to be away for that time. He would not care about such details were I to be dead in two days."

"Draco will be there, then, won't he?" Harry, despite his eroding morale, was gratified to see the look of surprise on Snape's face in light of his deduction. "You'll be going over which students to Mark."

Snape nodded. "That is my belief, yes. It is Albus's as well. Astute."

Harry smiled at the compliment. "Does that mean you'll know when they Mark them?"

"Perhaps. Why?"

"Well, I was talking to Hermione the other day," Harry said. He had not intended on taking this route, but the opportunity seemed promising. A part of him felt bad for misleading the man, but he assured himself that it was not really a lie. Plus, it was for Snape's own good. "I'd really rather not have to feel another Marking. 'Mione thinks that the pain I'm feeling comes from Voldemort, not his victims. Not directly, at least. She thinks he's empathic and he feels what they do, then I feel what he does."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I had not considered that. It is possible. No sane person would choose to feel such pain, but the Dark Lord has not been sane for many years."

Harry nodded. "Anyway, Neville's parents were given a potion for–I guess it's mental pain or something. Pain that's not coming from the body. It was his father that got it, actually. But I don't know what it's called, and he can't exactly owl the hospital from here without the Order freaking out."

"I can find that out." Harry was a bit shocked that Snape had agreed so easily. "But if I do, and if I can procure it, you will only receive it after I have fully studied its effects. And you will only take it under my direct supervision."

Harry quickly agreed. He only wanted it for the Markings, and that was when Snape would be willing to administer it. And nothing he had said was a lie. He really did not want to experience another Marking.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Bad news, Harry," Neville said. They group had finished dinner and left the Order members planning some new operation. Harry had an idea what Neville was going to say, but let him finish. "Dumbledore wouldn't let me owl Gran. I don't know if I can find out what that potion is."

"I've been going through the library, but Neville thinks it was a brand new potion when they used it on his father," Hermione said. "All the books are way too old. Even if we found out the name, I doubt we'll be able to find out how to brew it."

Harry grinned. "I solved that problem before dinner. Snape's going to find out what it is. And he's going to either get it or make it."

Ron laughed. "How did you manage that one, Harry?"

"Well, there's probably going to be more Markings before school. More students." Harry's revelation brought the tone down a bit.

"I guess we had to expect that," Ginny said. The others nodded. "How many?"

Harry shrugged and explained the conversation he'd had with the Potions Master.

"Well, if Snape's doing our work for us, what's next?" Ron asked.

"I had an idea. But I don't think you guys are going to like it," Harry said. "So far, the only time I witnessed a Marking was when I accidentally got pulled into it. So there's no guarantee I'll just happen to be in Voldemort's mind for whoever's next. I need to be able to get in whenever I want."

Ron jumped from his chair. "Harry, no!"

"There's no choice, Ron. I'm not happy about it either. But there's no other way if this is going to work."

"So it doesn't have to work, then. It was a good idea, Harry, but we don't know if you'll be able to do anything even if you are there for a Marking. It's not worth it."

"Yes, it is. I'm doing this, Ron. I want your help. I want everyone's help. But I'll try on my own if I have to."

Ron fell back into his chair. "Merlin, Harry. At least wait until we're back at Hogwarts, then. I'm sure Dumbledore won't let any Death Eaters into the school. Hermione can find out more about what's going on if she can get into the school library. Right Hermione?"

"Ron's right," Hermione said. "There's a lot in the forbidden section I haven't seen. You can lend me your Invisibility Cloak and I'll do more research."

The group sat in silence for a while. Harry knew he had to explain himself, but he didn't trust his voice. Everyone knew he was getting along better with Snape, but none of them knew exactly why. It was a lot easier to let them all think they'd achieved a truce, but Harry was starting to think of the man as a friend. And he knew no one would understand that. But he also needed his friends' support. He could do it alone, yes, but he wanted to know his friends would be looking out for him, too. Finally, he whispered, "They're going to kill him."

Puzzled looks prompted him to say more. "If I live long enough to get into the school library, they'll kill Snape. I need to figure this out before the summer ends."

"Well, he. . ." Ron gazed down at the table.

"Don't say it, Ron," Harry warned.

Ron shook his head. "I wasn't going to. I don't like him, but I don't think he should die. Not if we can stop it, I guess. But if it comes down to him or you, Harry-"

"Don't say that either!" Harry was nearly shouting, and his friends looked shocked. He lowered his voice. "I'm sick of people saying things like that, Ron. I'm sick of buying time with other people's lives."

Ginny laid a hand on Harry's arm. "It's their decision, Harry. You've never asked anyone to protect you."

"I still have to live with their decisions, Ginny. I can't keep people from choosing. But I hate hearing it."

"What do you need us to do, Harry?" Neville asked.

With a quick smile to Neville for changing the subject, Harry said, "Well, I don't know if I'll be able to get back on my own, do I? I need you guys to wake me up if I get stuck in there. And to cover for me if someone finds out what's going on."

"What do we do if you won't wake up, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Look, I know you don't want to wait until we get back to school, but at least let us find out how to get you out of there."

Harry was not too concerned about that. "I always wake up eventually. And if he's not doing anything that hurts, I hope I'll be in enough control to pull away if I want to, or at least wake up if you guys are doing something. Give me five minutes. If I'm still in there, try to get me up. If that doesn't work, go find an adult and tell that I'm having another vision. Okay?"

Though no one seemed too keen on the idea, they all finally agreed.

"Alright, then." Harry sat down on the bed. "Here goes."

Harry focused on Voldemort, knowing it would take another surge of emotion to get him in. He thought about his parents and what Voldemort had done to them. Unbidden, his mother's voice came, pleading for her son's life. Sadness washed over him, then anger. Voldemort had taken everything from him, and he still was not satisfied. He was trying to kill Harry. His Death Eaters had just tried to kidnap his friends. They'd kill them all if they could. Harry considered everything the Dark Lord planned, and his anger grew. He was Marking students and he was going to kill Snape. Soon, Harry's anger blossomed into hatred. Harry felt himself sliding away, and found himself staring out of a familiar pair of eyes.

__

Wormtail stood across a long dark table. A wide piece of parchment was spread out before him. Off to the side, the rustle of robes and a closing door marked someone's exit.

"She will not be leading the attack, my Lord?" Pettigrew bowed his head as he spoke.

"Bellatrix has grown unstable. We will use what she knows, but she cannot be trusted to control herself if my Death Eaters meet resistance. We lost far too much in the Department of Mysteries last time because the fools wanted more to fight than to succeed. Tonight I want only the crystal ball. That will tell us where the Order is hiding, and then we will have our revenge on them, and the boy."

Wormtail bowed his head lower. "And if it has been moved, my Lord? Your Death Eaters will want to know how to proceed."

"Tell them to return immediately if the orb is not there. They will leave no trace of their entry. Not a paper disturbed or I shall be most displeased."

"And then, my Lord?"

A guttural growl.

"Please forgive me, my Lord. But we know the crystal ball was in the museum archives two days ago. If it is no longer there, then one of the Death Eaters sent must be the spy."

"A spy. Do not be stupid enough to think there is only one spy among my followers. If they fail tonight, they will all die. I will take no chances."

"May I-"

"Yes. If necessary, you may kill them."

"Thank you, Lord Voldemort." Pettigrew bowed low. "If that is all, my Lord, I shall instruct your Death Eaters that they leave at midnight."

Within Voldemort's mind, Harry frantically wished himself awake. He could get in, it seemed. But now that he was here, he realized he had no idea how to escape. He did not even know how much time had passed. Were his friends still waiting, or were they trying to get him back? He focused on his own body and concentrated on returning there as hard as he could. Nothing. Now the panic set in. He knew he would return to himself eventually, but he needed to talk to Dumbledore now.

A shockwave hit him. The force of a blow took his breath away. Suddenly he was engulfed in painful heat. Now he was cold, shivering. When he opened his eyes, his teeth were chattering. Snape stood above him, holding a bucket. Hermione and Lupin stood behind the Potions Master, both looking concerned and relieved at the same time. Harry realized he was soaked.

"What happened Harry!" Ginny rushed to his side. "You were just sitting there, then you passed out."

Reoriented, Harry caught on. _ Sneaky girl, that one. _ "I don't know. I guess I had another vision." Snape's eyes narrowed, and Remus turned white.

"How bad was it this time, Harry?" Remus asked. "You weren't thrashing around like last time."

"No, it was okay," Harry replied to everyone's relief. He suddenly remembered why he had needed to wake up so urgently. "I need to talk to Dumbledore–now. I saw something. A plan for tonight." Harry jumped out of bed, still dripping.

"Albus is not here," Snape said. "Nor can we contact him safely."

"Then. . ." Harry's mind raced. "Shacklebolt! Or Mr. Weasley! They're going to steal something from a museum somewhere. A crystal ball from a museum's archives."

"There are a lot of crystal balls, Harry." Snape laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and the boy calmed down little. "Do you know what powers it has?"

"It's supposed to show him where we're hiding."

From behind Snape, Harry heard a muffled gasp. Snape turned around. "You squeaked, Miss Granger?"

"I know what they're looking for. Is there anyone in the Order who works at the Royal Museum of Wizard History? Or someone high enough in the Ministry to get inside?"

"First enlighten us on what you think the Dark Lord wants."

"Well, as Harry and Ron know, I've been to every museum in London."

"That is hardly a surprise, Miss Granger. But you are wasting time." Snape's annoyance filled the room.

"Sorry sir. But I saw a crystal ball in the Royal Museum. It was a replica, though, and the card in the case said that the real one was in a vault in the Museum's archives. They said it was made by the High Priestess of Avalon before Uther Pendragon was born, and she foresaw Arthur's coming in it. The crystal is hollow, and it's filled with water from the Scrying Pool on Avalon. Legend says it can see through any magical protection."

"I'll get ahold of Tonks and have her get to the Museum with a team of Aurors," Lupin said.

"Wait!" Harry said. "Don't send Aurors."

Snape looked like he was planning on saying something exceptionally condescending, then stopped himself. "What did you have in mind?"

"Voldemort knows there's a spy. Well, he thinks there's a few, but it sounds like they know there's definitely one. Can we get someone to hide the crystal ball? They won't look too hard for it if it's not in the vault. They're not allowed to, actually. Voldemort said so."

"He'll kill them, Harry. Are you willing to send them to that fate rather than arrest and Azkaban?" Remus asked.

"They won't let themselves be arrested, will they?" Harry turned to Snape, who shook his head.

"Not likely, no. The Dark Lord expects his followers to choose death over capture. They will fight to their last breath."

"So this way, the Aurors aren't in danger." Harry said softly.

Remus nodded, then said, "We'll get this information to someone, Harry. Don't worry." He turned to leave and Snape followed him out. The door was still unlatched, and it opened a tiny bit after the Potions Master pulled it closed. The gap was just enough to allow the students still inside to overhear Snape call for Remus.

"Lupin, if you ever say anything like that to the boy again, I will personally drive a silver dagger through your heart."

"What in the world are you-"

"Potter is not sending them to any fate! They made a choice to follow, and the Dark Lord made a choice to kill them if they do not succeed. I assure you the possibility of death follows any failure on the part of a Death Eater. Harry has nothing to do with that. How dare you couch his advice in those terms?"

"That's not what I meant, Severus, and you know it! I was making sure Harry knew what would happen so he didn't feel guilty after it happened."

"He already feels guilty. And you were not telling him anything he did not already know. There are, at best, a handful of wizards in the Order who understand the Dark Lord as well as Harry has been forced to. You are not one of them. You cannot protect him from what he knows, and your attempts at such are only going to hurt him more."

The sound of a door closing marked the end of the conversation, and the group in Harry's room remained silent as they listened to Remus's footsteps disappear down the stairs.

"Well," Ron said into the silence. "I never thought I'd hear _ that_." Neville began to laugh nervously, and was soon joined by the others.

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Several hours later, Remus returned to Harry's room. His friends were still there as they all waited anxiously to hear about the museum.

"It looks like everything went fine," Remus said. "Shacklebolt got in touch with the Chief Curator who agreed to hand the ball over to the Order for safe keeping. Dumbledore is going to study it and see if we can use it. But it's safe for now."

Everyone let out a sigh of relief. "Way to go, Harry," Ron said. Harry responded with a weak smile.

"And Harry," Remus said. "What I said before. . ."

"It's okay, Remus. I know you didn't mean it like that. It's not my fault they joined him, and it's not my fault he's crazy. Snape was probably just mad and decided to take it out on you."

"Yeah, we know a lot about that, don't we?" Ron added. Neville chuckled and Hermione rolled his eyes.

"Maybe," Remus said. "Or he's just being protective of you. It's easier to let him yell at me when I think he's looking out for you, so I'll go with that." Remus gave Harry a wink and headed into the hall.

"You should all get to bed," Remus said as he strode off. "There's no easier way to be yelled at by Molly, and I don't want her thinking I let you kids stay up too late."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Wow, thanks once again for all the great reviews. Just when my inspiration starts to fade, I'll get another review and be revitalized. I'm going to try to stick to a better writing schedule since I've been getting bad lately. A few glimpses into the future: more action! more danger! more Snape/Harry!

A few folks have pointed out that I'm a bit harsh on Hermione. I'm aware of that, but it's serving a purpose, I think. I promise she's not going to be a bad guy in all of this. And though the Hermione fans may not like how this chapter ends, I assure you things will pick up for her in 13. Just have faith. I am trying to keep her in character, but also remember that the main point of views are Harry's and Snape's. Snape is, well, Snape, and Harry has been, up till now, under a great deal of internal strife that's finally ebbing a bit. So his views are going to be a little lopsided.

And to Xikum, most, but not all, of the details and "facts" about the scar/bond/link/whatever are already in the story, conveniently set up for me to use them later! I'll be impressed if you've caught on, though, simply because I'm not that good at dropping hints like that.

Aethen

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 12

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The night was spent, despite both Remus's admonition and Harry's wishes, debating the safety of what Harry had planned.

"There's nothing to worry about," Harry said. "I'll talk to Snape tomorrow about why I couldn't get out of Voldemort's mind. I'm sure he'll ask about it anyway. Plus, now we know how you guys can wake me up. We just need a bucket."

"I still don't like it, Harry," Hermione said. "What if Voldemort catches you? What if something goes wrong next time? The water worked this time, but that was probably only because you weren't in pain."

"I've gotten out when he was using Crucio before. Look, I'll talk to Snape tomorrow, like I said. I'll have a lesson before he goes to see Voldemort and Malfoy."

"Okay, Harry," Ron said, giving Hermione a look to keep her quiet. "If you're sure you know what you're doing, we'll do what we can. It's just. . ."

"We followed you past Fluffy, we followed you into the Chamber Secrets, and we followed you into the Department of Mysteries. We're not used to you going somewhere we can't follow." Hermione finished Ron's thought.

"You couldn't follow me all the way, though. Not to get the Stone, and not into the Basilisk's lair. And you couldn't follow me during the Tri-Wizard Tournament either."

"Right. And look what happened." Hermione turned pale at her own words before Harry could react. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like it sounded. It just seems like no matter how hard we try, we're never there when you really need us. You keep having to face Voldemort alone."

Harry nodded. "I know, Hermione. I know you didn't mean Cedric. And I know you guys want protect me. All of you." Harry looked around at his friends. "And I'll probably never be able to thank you for that. But. . ." Harry considered his words, then decided on the truth. "I don't think, when the time comes, that I'll have any choice but to be alone."

Harry told them what Dumbledore had explained in his office at the end of last term.

"So, I think that's why I keep ending up alone with Voldemort," Harry said. "Well, I wasn't alone after the Tournament, but maybe that's why I made it out alive. Maybe it just wasn't time."

"That's silly, Harry," Hermione said. "The prophecy doesn't say anything at all about you being alone. Besides, you're wrong."

"I've thought a lot about this, Hermione."

"Well, you're still wrong. You've never actually been alone with Voldemort. Your mother was there the first time." She began checking things off on her fingers. "Quirrell was there when you found the Stone. Ginny was there in the Chamber. And after the Tournament and in the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort had a bunch of Death Eaters."

"If anything," Ron said, "that prophecy means you need us even more. We've got to make sure the Death Eaters don't keep you from taking on You-Know-Who."

Harry grinned.

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"Morning, Potter," Professor Snape said as Harry settled into his chair sat back in his chair. "Tell me about last night."

"Well," Harry shifted uncomfortably. He still did not want to lie outright to Snape if he could help it. "It started like it did before. So I guess we can assume you were right about what's causing the visions."

"Of course I was right." Snape waved his hand, casually dismissing the idea that he could have been wrong. "You did not appear to be in pain. Were you?"

"No, I wasn't. I can't figure out what I did wrong. I got myself out of it that other time when Remus was in trouble."

"It is probably your overdeveloped sense of honor. A friend was in trouble, so you managed to extract yourself."

"Maybe," Harry said, not entirely convinced. "I was in pain that other time too, at first." He suddenly looked up. "Wait a minute, Professor. Occlumency isn't supposed to affect the bond I have with him, right? But I blocked the pain from his Crucio last month."

"I have been considering that myself. I am impressed you noticed that. My well-educated guess is that the pain you feel is leaking through the bond you share, but it is a side effect. It follows the path of your link, but does not travel upon it directly, if you will. That underscores the difference between your bond and mine. I cannot block out the pain."

Harry considered that for a moment. "Maybe that's why he feels his victim's pain. If he can project that through the bond, wouldn't it make Crucio twice as bad?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry, who smiled at the impressed look in the Potions Master's gaze. "That is quite astute, Harry. And it may even be correct. A summer of wonders, no doubt." Harry chuckled. Snape's jabs seemed to have less sting lately. "The Dark Lord's curses are far more powerful than any other wizard's. Even more so for his Death Eaters, perhaps."

"So it's twice as bad when he Crucios you than when he did it to me?" Harry grew pale.

"If your deduction is correct, then yes. Though after a few moments under the curse, it ceases to matter."

"I suppose." Harry had a feeling he was right about Voldemort's use of the bond with his Death Eaters, and it served to make him despise the Dark Lord even more. He made his followers suffer even more than his enemies.

"Professor?" Harry steered the conversation back to his own agenda. "What do you think I can do to make sure I pull away from his mind if it happens again? I think I have the Occlumency down. But after that. . . Well, I thought I was doing the same thing last night that I did last month."

"There are some techniques common to many similar spells and rituals that may help. Astral projection is a fairly rare skill, even among wizards, but I have some familiarity with the theory if not the practice. You will learn them, and we shall see how useful they are. However, Harry, I must remind you how dangerous it is for you to be in the Dark Lord's mind at all. We do not know what kind of control he can exercise over the bond you share, nor what kind of harm he can cause you should he discover your presence."

Harry nodded in understanding, but Snape continued. "You cannot allow yourself to become so engrossed in your emotions. Perhaps if your friends knew your secret. If you cannot control your emotions on your own, talking to your friends may aid you."

Harry's stomach turned at the thought to telling his friends he was gay. He knew it was not entirely a logical reaction, but he still pushed the idea from his mind. Besides, he had been in control of his emotions this time, but he could not tell Snape that. "Well, yes, I would like to. But I don't think I'm ready yet. Anyway, I was just thinking too much last night. I'll be more careful about where I let my thoughts go in the future. I promise." And he would be careful, but not quite the way Snape would assume.

For his part, Snape simply nodded. "Very well. On to the lesson, then." Snape spent the next hour discussing theories on how Harry could find his way back to his own head.

Snape left right after the lesson, leaving Harry to find his way to the attic where Tonks and Mundungus waited for him and his friends. In the past week, several members of the Order had taken to assisting Snape with their training. Harry was not sure if that was merely a result of boredom or a desire to help, or if they knew the students would need the skills sometime soon. He was in no mood to ask.

"Let's see what Severus has been up to, shall we?" Mundungus said with a grin. He singled Harry out and immediately began an assault of curses and hexes. Harry, having learned always to be on guard in the attic, responded with a solid defense. Grazed with a few hexes, he let nothing serious through and decided to turn the tables on the short man with an assault of his own. After all, Snape had certainly never taught them to stand and bear the brunt of an attack. Soon, the two were in an out and out duel. Harry was suspicious.

Sure enough, the nagging in Harry's mind turned to warning as Mundungus reached into his coat pocket and threw something directly at Harry. Physical attacks were against dueling rules, but as Snape had taught them, Death Eaters did not care about that. Harry leaped out of the way as the rock sailed past him and bounced off the wall. Harry was in a bad position for a spell, his body twisted away from his opponent as he fell against one of the chests they had cleared from the center of the room. Letting his momentum carry him over it, Harry barely dodged the blasting curse that shredded the tapestry next to him. He landed face-down and knew he would have to expose himself to free his wand hand trapped beneath him. Instead, he grabbed a metal candelabra and hurled it, without looking, at Mundungus.

His aim must have been good, as he heard Mundungus's next spell get cut short. Finally, Harry was free to push himself up, just in time to see the short man rolling out of the way of the heavy metal ornament. His wide grin let Harry know the little thief was enjoying this. Harry took in his surroundings, just as Snape had taught him, and came up with a plan to end the match. Mundungus had thrown himself on top of an old rug, and Harry took advantage of it.

Harry had not even finished the levitation spell aimed at the far edge of the rug when Mundungus spun around to cancel Harry's attempt. With his back to him, Mundungus never saw Harry reach down and grab the rug's near edge in his hands. Pulling up, Harry sent the older man, and more importantly, his wand, sprawling across the floor.

"Accio wand!" Harry called out. Mundungus rolled over, gratifying Harry with a confused look. When he caught sight of Harry, he began laughing.

"Planned that all along, didn't you?" Mundungus asked.

Harry grinned. "Sure did. You knew I'd go for the rug as soon you landed on it, didn't you?"

"With the spell, yes. At least, I hoped you would. Would have been disappointed if you'd missed it. Didn't see that coming, though." He pointed to the rug, still in Harry's hand. "Good to see Severus is teaching you real fighting. Not that crap they teach in the dueling clubs."

Mundungus stood and retrieved his wand from Harry, who was panting from the exertion. Mundungus, though, looked as if the whole thing had been no less strenuous than a walk through a garden. His clothes were still a bit askew, but that was nothing unusual for him.

"Okay, then, who's next?"

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The following day presented a break in the students' schedule. Snape had not yet returned, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was waiting for the Potions Master to return as well, offered to show them some of the strength and stamina training that Aurors underwent. The elder wizard walked them through a series of exercises.

"The best spells in the world won't help you if you're too exhausted to cast," he said as the group jogged around the upper floors of the manor. Harry was grateful for the exercise, as he had spent most of the previous night worrying about Voldemort deciding to take a closer look into Snape's mind. As tired as Harry was from his night of fitful sleep, the distraction of physical exhaustion was welcome.

The activity was welcome for another reason, too, and after the group finished for the morning, as they all made their way to lunch, Harry trotted up beside the Auror. "Excuse me, sir?"

"What is it, Harry?" the man asked, resting his hand fondly on Harry's shoulder.

"Well, I wanted to thank you for taking the time today with us. And I was just wondering–and don't think we don't appreciate it–but why is everyone so willing to help us train? I know why Professor Snape's doing it. Or I know part of why. But I guess I'm kind of surprised that you Aurors are doing it too."

Shacklebolt frowned and indulged in a small sigh. "Please don't thank me, Harry. I would much rather be telling all of you to run off and play a game, or get a head start on next term. But we cannot afford that, I fear. The Dark Lord has had years to gather his followers and they have recruited new wizards to his side. We do not have the numbers we once did, and we cannot afford to turn away any allies."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"None of us are happy to see you or your friends involved in this. But we know better than to believe you will not fight simply because you are not prepared." Harry took exception to the man's choice of words, and opened his mouth to protest, but did not get a chance to. "That speaks highly of you, and your friends too, Harry. No one would blame you if you wanted to hide from all this, but here you are, ready to face what comes. We have not spoken about it, but I think several of us have decided that we will not allow you to face that unaided."

Harry was not sure how to respond to that. It was scary to consider the full weight of Shacklebolt's words, so he simply said, "Thank you."

Harry entered the kitchen behind his friends and found Snape helping himself to some tea.

"Professor!" The dark man simply raised an eyebrow at Harry, and even Ron looked confused at Harry's response. "I'm glad you're back. Did everything go okay?"

"Considering what I was there to discuss, Mr. Potter, I would say it did not go well at all."

Harry frowned. He had not spent much time thinking about what the meeting meant beyond the inherent danger to Snape.

"How many?"

"And what makes you think I would tell you that, Mr. Potter?"

"We're going to find out eventually, aren't we? Dumbledore isn't letting them in next term, right? So once we see who's missing from the Slytherin table next month, we'll know. You're just trying to look mysterious and brooding," Harry replied. Neville choked on his sandwich and Hermione looked scandalized.

Snape gazed cooly at Harry until the boy started to squirm in his seat. "Seven," he said finally. Harry exhaled a breath he had not realized he had been holding. "Though you will only suffer from the loss of four more from my house."

"Three Ravenclaws?" Ron asked.

"Two, Weasley. You are all far too quick to judge others. Interesting that the only stereotype that ever seems to hold true is the Gryffindor tendency to stereotype the others. Hufflepuff will find itself missing one of its Seventh Years."

"No Gryffindors, though," Ron said, puffing out his chest. "Of course."

Snape narrowed his eyes at the red-head, and Harry spoke up before his friend dug himself into a hole. "Let it go, Ron. I'm just glad it was only seven. I expected more."

"As did I," Snape said. "And in truth, I know of others, Slytherin and not, who would take the Mark. Obviously, however, I kept my opinions to myself. Malfoy's arrogance is working for us. It was a mistake for the Dark Lord to take him alone. He has allowed the honor of being the first of his generation to be Marked to go to his head, and he finds fault with his fellow students he feels are beneath him. If there are Gryffindors who would join the Death Eaters, Malfoy would never allow himself to see that."

"Well, it doesn't matter, because none of them would," Ron said.

Snape laughed, a barking, caustic laugh filled with spite. "Mr. Weasley, you truly are a fool. A whispered truth has no power over shouted lies, it appears." With a disdainful shake of his head, Snape stood. "You have potions tutoring when you are finished with lunch, Potter. Do not dawdle, please."

When Snape left, Ron snorted and stuck his tongue out at the doorway the professor had exited through. "Everyone knows that no Gryffindor would take the Dark Mark."

Ginny leaned past Neville and smacked the side of her brother's head. "Honestly, Ron, you really are thick. Forgotten about Wormtail, have you?"

Ron's eyes grew wide. "Well, he was. . ." He frowned. "I guess he's right. But I hate to think that someone from our own house would go dark. It's just easier to imagine some dirty Slytherin doing it."

Hermione spoke up. "He's right, you know. We can't assume anyone's loyalty based on their house. Come next term, we need to be careful. Really careful."

"The other day, Remus said that we five reminded him of the Marauders. Then he got really quiet. I guess he was remembering what happened to them," Nevill said.

"I'm not going to start worrying about that," Harry said firmly. "Hermione's right. We need to be careful around others. But I'm not going to start doubting you guys. Maybe my father said the same thing once, but I couldn't keep doing this if I didn't know I could count on all of you. Snape may think it's foolish, but I don't."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione threw her arms around Harry and squeezed him tight. "What a sweet thing to say. But it doesn't matter, because it's not a mistake. We'll always be here for you."

Harry returned the hug awkwardly and pulled away. "Well, I meant it," he said with a shy smile. "Anyway, I have to go before Snape transfigures a cockroach into Filch so he can give me detention for being late."

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Upstairs, Harry let himself into Snape's room with a gentle knock. He headed over to his table and stopped when he caught sight of his professor glaring at him. "What exactly was that about in the kitchen, Potter?" Snape asked crossing his arms.

"Sir?"

"I will not tolerate you showing off for your friends, Harry. When we are alone, I allow you a certain amount of latitude. And I too, am more casual when we are practicing Occlumency or potions. But I am still you professor, and just as importantly, I am theirs, too. If you cannot handle a more relaxed relationship with me in private then I will not permit one. You will not undermine my authority with the others. If they see you behaving that way with me, they will do so as well. Then they will resent you for getting away with it when they cannot."

"I wasn't-"

"Yes, you were, Harry. You were playing a game of 'look what I can do.' And what is more, you know you pushed too far. You are mature enough to see that."

Harry chose not to answer, and Snape did not push him for a reply, instead giving him a final piercing look before putting him to work. As this was a potion Harry had never managed to brew successfully, the Potions Master stood beside him, explaining the workings of each ingredient as it was added. Finally, when the concoction was simmering, Harry had a chance to change the topic.

"Are you going to tell us who's going to be Marked?"

"Is that really necessary? As you said earlier, you will learn soon enough. And it is quite possible that some will refuse. I do not know that I wish to prejudice you against your fellow students should I and Malfoy be mistaken about their loyalties."

Harry had no reply to that. He did not feel the accusation was entirely fair but knew his past actions were less than flattering. After all, Harry had spent years assuming the worst about Snape, and only Dumbledore's revelation that Snape had been and still was a spy had changed Harry's mind. Instead of commenting on Snape's jab, he said, "I could have just watched you telling him. Then I'd know everything." Snape tensed up beside Harry. "But I didn't. Don't worry."

"Purposefully entering the Dark Lord's mind may be the stupidest thing you are capable of, Potter. And should I ever discover you doing so, I will see to it that you spend the rest of your life drugged to just this side of consciousness in order to prevent you doing so again."

"You said that all wrong," Harry said absentmindedly as he stirred his potion. "You mean you'll kill me if I do it. Keeping me conscious would give the impression that you'd rather me survive your punishment intact. Can't have that rumor floating about. Anyway, I said I didn't," Harry reminded him, trying to ease the tension. "I could have, though. It wouldn't be too hard. Happens easily enough when I don't want it to, lately."

"Harry, we still have no idea if the Dark Lord is capable of discovering your presence, nor-"

"Nor do we know if he'll be able to use the link to hurt me. I know that, Professor." Snape gave him a measuring look. "It wasn't worth the risk, so I didn't do it."

"And what, exactly, would you consider to be worth the risk?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not going to sit in his head all day hoping to catch some piece of information. I've seen what he does for fun, and I'd lose my mind if I had to watch that. It's been dumb luck so far that I've seen things that have helped."

"I'm glad you see that, Harry. I had not mentioned it to you until now because I feared that planting the idea in your head would do more harm than good. I should have realized you would have at least considered the possibility of establishing the link on your own. By entering his mind, you are taking a greater risk than I am when I respond to his summons. I know exactly what to expect, but there is far too much unknown about your bond."

Harry nodded. Once again, he consoled himself with the knowledge that he had not technically lied to Snape. He had said nothing at all about testing the bond later. He had simply pointed out that _ this _ time, he had not used it. It was not lost on the young man that even a few months ago he would have lied outright to his professor without a twinge of guilt.

The potion finished setting and Harry bottled it before cleaning up his work area in a comfortable silence. When he finished, Snape motioned for him to come over to the Potions Master's own cauldron.

"This is the first stage of the potion you asked about. The one they gave the Longbottoms. It is quite extraordinary, actually. The potion was used long ago to combat what is called 'phantom pain' wherein a wizard experienced pain from a lost limb. It deals directly with the parts of the brain that handles pain, just as most Muggle drugs do. Since most limbs are regrown magically, the potion has fallen by the wayside. This batch should get you through the Markings. And no, you will not be permitted to help me brew it." Harry chuckled at the reminder of the help he had tried to provide when Remus had needed the Skele-Gro potion.

"When?" Harry asked.

"The week before the new term. If there is any change I will be informed immediately."

"Okay." Harry was uncomfortable making plans like these. He did not want to think about people he had grown up with, even those he disliked, joining the Death Eaters. Harry turned to leave and had a foot in the hallway when Snape's voice stopped him. "You were wrong in the kitchen, by the way. Another Gryffindor trait is jumping to conclusions. I would not say that trusting your friends is foolish. If anything, most of the Order fears that when the time comes, you will not trust them enough. Close the door behind you, please."

Harry did as he was told, knowing that further discussion would lead nowhere after he had been dismissed. Typical Snape–leaving the most interesting part of the conversation till the end.

He returned to his room to find Ron and Neville doing push-ups on the floor. Both boys had spent some time after lunch speaking with Shacklebolt, drilling him for tips on how to get stronger before the summer was over. Hermione sat on Harry's bed looking through one of the notebooks she had filled with ideas about the Dark Mark. At the table, Ginny was writing a letter to someone, probably Dean, even though it was unlikely she would be allowed to mail it any time soon.

The young wizard considered his professor's words. He did trust his friends. He trusted them with his life. But he still had a secret he had not yet brought himself to trust them with, and it hurt a part of him to admit that. He had no rational excuse for secrecy. He should tell them. He doubted any of his friends would turn their back on him over this. Not after they had proven themselves in the face of a band of Death Eaters just a few months before. And even if they did, it was better to find that out here and now instead of in the heat of battle. Harry pushed that last thought from his mind. It was not fair to his friends to think like that. He had just promised them he would have faith in them, and he would keep that promise.

"Hey guys," Harry said, pulling the door closed and settling on the foot of the bed. "Listen, there's something I've been wanting to tell you." Ron and Neville sat on the floor, and Ginny put her quill down.

"What is it, mate?" Ron asked.

"Well, it's nothing, really. I mean, it's nothing as important as all the stuff we've been talking about lately–Voldemort and the Dark Mark and such." Harry twisted at a loose thread in the blanket he was sitting on. "But I keep putting it off, and I really don't know why. But every day I wait, it's harder to say than it was the day before. Because how do you say, 'Oh, by the way, I didn't tell you this yesterday, or last week, or the week before, or last year.' So I don't want to keep doing that. And I don't want you to feel bad that I didn't tell you until now, because it's completely not about you, it's just me being stupid and scared and not wanting to say it."

Harry gathered the courage to look around and recognized the terror in his friends' faces. What did they expect him to say next? What ever it was, the truth probably would look better than what they were imagining. He let his friends off the hook. "I'm gay," he said quickly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I guess I just wasn't ready."

He stared at Ron, worried most about his best friend's reaction. Once the words sunk in, Ron tilted his head back and started laughing. "Merlin, Harry! I thought you were going to tell us that you had to duel Voldemort tomorrow or something."

Ginny and Neville chuckled too. "A bit dramatic, there, Harry," Neville said.

"Well, his kind usually are, aren't they?" Ginny asked Neville.

Harry blushed, and Ginny got up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm just teasing, Harry. You don't have to worry about me and Ron. Mum's got a gay cousin. We just sort of grew up with it, I guess, and never saw the big deal." Ron nodded behind her.

"Gran'll have a fit," Neville said and smirked. "Me sharing a room with one of _them_. But she also thinks that Muggle clothes should be illegal, so I don't listen too much when she gets going on stuff like that. I'm surprised, but I guess it doesn't matter."

Harry smiled and sighed with relief. Snape had been right. It did feel good to say it. He looked over at Hermione who was looking back at him with an unreadable expression. He had said what he needed to say, now it was her turn.

"Well, of course I'm still your friend. . ." she said. Her voice was sharp to Harry's ears. Tucking the quill into the journal to hold the place, she dropped the book onto the bed and headed to the door. "I need to look something up in the library." Harry frowned at her retreating form. He heard her voice in his head and filled in where she had left off. _Well, of course I'm still your friend. Despite what you are. _

"Don't worry about her, Harry," Ron said. "She'll come around. She's too logical to have a problem with something as silly as this. Probably just mad she didn't figure it out sooner."

Harry responded with a half-hearted smile and hoped his friend was right.


	13. Chapter 13

** A/N:** Thanks to all who took the time to review. To Klover, yes, definitely HP/SS slash. To DARKMARK, yuck, no MPREG. To Davey, blech, you're right, aren't you? I've changed Chapter 12. There's now an unnamed gay cousin, rather than an uncle. That should be vague enough to work, and really, the specifics aren't all that important as long as they don't contradict canon (which I try not to do). Thanks for pointing it out. To the Hermione fans, I hope you like what I've done here. And since all is out in the open, I'll mention that Harry's been worried thus far about Hermione's curiousity because he had a secret to hide, so it was spilling over for the past dozen chapters.

Aethen

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 13

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Harry caught up to Hermione in the library. Despite Ron's assurance, he was worried about how she was taking his news. _ I knew this was a mistake_, he thought. "Hermione?"

She looked up at him, lips pursed.

"What is it, Harry? I'm a bit busy," she said. "Busy helping you, I might add."

"I know that, and I appreciate it." Harry watched her return the book she was holding to the shelf and pull another out. Her hands were trembling, and she seemed to be going through books randomly without reading their titles.

"If you'd rather not help me anymore. . ." Harry trailed off, terrified at her response.

"I told you I'm still your friend. Maybe I haven't been a very good one, but you can trust me, you know." She was flipping through the index of another book, her back to Harry.

"Of course I know that. I never thought I couldn't trust you."

"Then why did you wait so long to come out to us? Did you really think we'd hate you? After we've stood beside you against everything, did you really think so little of us?"

Harry took a step back, unbalanced. "Hermione, I said before that my taking so long to tell you had nothing to do with you, and it didn't. It had to do with me."

"You were afraid to tell us, Harry. It had to have something to do with us."

"Honestly, Hermione, it didn't. I was afraid to tell you because I was afraid to admit it to myself. I've known for a while, I guess, but I always ignored that part of me. It was like, as long as I never told anyone, I could always pretend. I could have a normal life. I just wasn't ready to take that last step until now."

Harry searched for the words to make her understand.

"Someone told me once that words have power. And he was right. It's scary to say it out loud at first. And it had nothing to do with who I was saying it to. It could have been an empty room, and I wouldn't have said it until now. But I always knew you guys would stay by my side. I never doubted that. Not until. . ."

"Until I left?" Hermione turned to face him. Harry swallowed but did not answer. "Oh, Harry!" Hermione dropped her book and pulled him into a hug. Harry returned her embrace gratefully. "I didn't mean to hurt you like that. And I never really thought you didn't trust us. But Harry, you must know that we're all terrified that one day you're going to run off to fight Voldemort without us. I guess that's why I overreacted. If we don't know what you know, we can't help you."

"Well, I'm not going to run to Voldemort because I'm gay. I've seen him. He looks better than he did two years ago, but he's still not my type."

Hermione laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. "Thank you for telling us, Harry."

Harry gave her another hug. "You're welcome. Want to go back to the room?"

Hermione nodded and the two left the library. In the hallway, she asked, "So, are we the first to know?"

"Oh, uh." Harry faltered. "Well, no. One other person knows. But I can't tell you who." Hermione frowned at him, and he quickly continued. "He's gay too, and I promised not to tell anyone about him. It's not that I don't want to tell you, but it's really not my place to say anything. And if it makes you feel better, I didn't plan on telling him. He figured it out."

Hermione nodded. He knew she was trying to piece together clues. "Did you two, ah, you know. . ."

Harry laughed. "No! No, no, no." This time Hermione laughed.

"Wow, Harry. It wasn't Malfoy was it?" She had a playful glint in her eye. "That's a lot of 'no's."

When they returned to their friends, Harry could sense their unease, which was quickly relieved when they saw the smile on Harry and Hermione's faces.

"So what about Cho?" Hermione asked, returning to her spot on the bed.

Harry frowned. "I feel bad about that now. I guess that was like what I said before about trying to be normal. I really got myself to believe that I was attracted to her. She's very pretty, so it really wasn't that hard. And I exaggerated my appreciation for her into something more. But I was fooling myself. When I look back on it, I realize I didn't care about her the way I should have–the way a boyfriend really would have. I just didn't know it. Maybe I was using her so I wouldn't have to face what I really am."

Ginny gave his arm a squeeze. "Don't get yourself down about it, Harry. I don't think Cho was really all that in love with you either. It was what it was, and no one got really hurt, right?"

Harry reflected on Ginny's words. "I suppose so. I just feel bad about it, that's all."

"Well, you wouldn't be Harry if you didn't feel guilty about something," Ron said with a smile. "And what did we hear Hermione saying about Malfoy out in the hall?" His eyebrows waggled as only his could. "Thinking of subscribing to _ Blonds with Wands_?"

Harry turned bright red and feigned anger. "I don't like blonds!"

With a serious expression, Ron turned to Neville and said, "He's got a thing for redheads then. Poor guy. I'm going to have to break his heart." Neville chuckled; Harry laughed.

"You wish. I like dark hair, thank you."

"Ah," Ron said. "Flitwick, then. You into short guys?"

"Well, he would be just the right height," Harry said slowly.

"Harry!" Hermione was wide-eyed. "I cannot begin to consider how many ways hearing that has scarred us all."

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As the end of summer loomed closer, Harry's small triumphs were increasingly shadowed by larger frustrations. Snape's tutoring continued, and Harry, in a series of tests that worried his friends no end, had discovered that he could block out most of the pain that Voldemort sent him through his scar. Only the worst Crucios made it through to him, and the young man was reasonably sure that his failure to block the pain entirely was due to his bond to the Dark Lord rather than a failure of his shields, as Snape had pronounced him to be as good at Occlumency as the man could make him. He had also succeeded in removing himself from Voldemort's mind at will. Again, Snape's tutoring proved invaluable, as he had taught Harry the mental exercises used by Clairvoyants. The Markings later in the month would be the true test, though, as Harry had no doubt that the pain that leaked through his bond would be far worse than what came from the Crucios. Harry stopped testing the bond once he was satisfied he could free himself from a vision. The nightmares were bad, whether they were brought on by one of Voldemort's bad moods or by Harry's memories of atrocities past. If the potion used on the Longbottoms did not work, Harry's skill alone would not be adequate.

Any satisfaction at his new skills Harry may have felt was dispelled by the thought that he was still failing Snape. Hermione had no new ideas on how to break the Mark without a more aggressive use of Harry's bond to Voldemort, and none were willing to attempt that. They would have to wait until the week before the new term and hope Harry was able to learn more.

Combat training continued, with Snape sometimes accepting help from others in the Order, and other times refusing their assistance. Usually, that refusal heralded one of the special sessions with just Snape and the five students. The Potions Master had fashioned potion-belts such as he wore for all of them, and he drilled their use into them. Eventually, their presence and use would become intuitive to the group, but for the time being, they practiced with bottles of colored water. Each evening after dinner, all five spent time trying to grab the correct vial without looking. In a heated combat, there would be little time to read labels, so all potions had to be identified by touch and placement on the belt. In mock battles, Snape hammered them for missed opportunities to end a conflict with one of the potions or, more often, for grabbing the wrong potion for the situation.

To compound the students' exhaustion and confusion, everyone in the Order had taken it upon themselves to test their knowledge of spells. Harry and his friends had all but forgotten about Snape's assignment to memorize the endless list, but they quickly learned not to underestimate anyone in the manor. No one made it down a hallway or into the kitchen for dinner without hearing the shouted name of some real or imaginary spell. Four of them had already done several essays on incorrect responses. Hermione, of course, knew every spell on Snape's list. Alphabetically. Harry had a hard time resenting her for it, though. Her life may one day be saved by her knowledge, he knew.

Finally, with just less than two weeks until his return to school, Harry was exhausted. His every waking moment was spent working on something, and his nights were too often haunted. Snape had provided a Dreamless Sleep potion, but Voldemort's anger often broke through, and the Potions Master did not allow him to use it every night for fear of side effects.

Today, in fact, Harry found himself learning to brew the potion. In early August, Snape had slightly modified their potions lessons to focus on several that Harry would likely need. They had done a variety of healing potions and a few of the less questionable brews for the students' belts. And Snape was making a point of letting Harry know where he could purchase several others that were beyond his skills as a Sixth Year.

"The potion for phantom pain is called the Limbless's Draught," Snape said as he watched Harry work on the Dreamless Sleep potion. He always discussed the more difficult potions in that tone, as if he was commenting on the weather. "It isn't restricted, just hard to find due to its limited demand. Any respectable potion shop should be able to provide you with it once the batch I made is used up. I am sure there will be times in the future when its effects will be needed."

Harry simply nodded in response. He hated that he needed to know that it was called the Limbless's Draught. He hated that he needed to know how to brew Dreamless Sleep. He hated that in a few weeks, he would probably be left without Snape to simply hand him the bottle when the dreams got too bad and he was too tired to try to fight off the demons that waited for him to sleep. And he hated himself for not knowing how to keep that from happening. A part of him, a part that was growing day by day, wanted the Markings to happen tonight–now–so he could witness them and figure out how to free Snape.

Though they talked a lot now, their conversations always seemed to focus on Harry. Snape was making good on his promise to see that Harry was prepared to fight, and when they were not discussing tactics or magical theory, they were talking about Harry's state of mind or relationship with his friends. Severus had been very pleased to hear that Harry had come out to them. He had even smiled, and Harry could not help but note how those dark, cold eyes had held a smokey warmth if just for a moment. As he stirred his cauldron, Harry was overcome with a need to learn more about his teacher.

The man was, as usual, working on the other side of the room. Harry turned slightly and caught sight of his professor, who had rolled up his sleeves to keep them away from flames and volatile liquids. The young wizard reflected briefly on the first day Snape had bared his arms in his presence. As with so much of their relationship, the meaning of the gesture was never stated, but Harry took it as a sign of trust. As far as he knew, Snape never willingly allowed anyone to see his Mark. But hiding it made for more work when brewing potions.

"Professor, may I ask you a question?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You may. Though you understand that I may not answer it."

_Probably not_, Harry thought, but asked anyway. "Why did you decide to join him? If my father and his friends were just part of the reason, what was the rest?" The question was one he had long wanted to ask, but only recently did he feel comfortable enough to do it. He still expected no answer, but he also knew the other man would not be angry at him for wanting to know.

"Would it shock you if I told you I agreed with him?"

Harry thought about his answer for some time. He had learned that the Potions Master often chose answers that misled simply to provoke a response. "Agreed with him about what?"

Snape's lip curled a bit, and Harry guessed that he had avoided a trap. "I agreed with him that wizards should not have to live in fear of being discovered by Muggles. I agreed that it was unfair to punish a wizard for revealing himself when Muggles are forcing themselves upon us daily."

"There's nothing wrong about wanting equality, I guess," Harry said slowly.

"Indeed. And my words make it seem almost noble. But in truth, Harry, it was never noble. It was never about equality. It was about power, control, and revenge. The Dark Lord never spoke of equality. He spoke of dominance. Though it is far worse now than it ever was, it was never a noble cause. But the darkness drew me, I admit.

"And as I seem to be suffering from an honest streak, I will tell you, Harry, that your father was only a small part of what drove me to that darkness. While his words may have been the loudest, I think they often hurt less than the whispers. At least I could try to fight back against your father, though I never really succeeded. But that was easier than pretending not to hear the words more softly spoken.

"So, when the Dark Lord rose, and gave impassioned speeches about showing ourselves to the world and punishing those who would force us to hide, when he spoke about a reckoning against the people who drove us into shadows, I listened. And yes, some of that spoke to my being gay, but not all of it. I had learned very early in life to hide most of myself from the world, as it could be used as ammunition. My family taught me that, and it was reinforced in school. And not just by your father, I assure you. Though Slytherin may show a solid front to the world, it is far more cruel to those within its dungeons than without."

Harry kept his eyes on his potion, waiting for it to finish changing color before adding the final ingredients. He had no idea how to reply to Snape's words. It seemed foolish to try to console him over actions long past. But he felt he had to acknowledge, somehow, the trust the man showed in him. Harry had little doubt that few people had ever heard so much of Snape's story. "Thank you, sir." He knew Snape would understand what that meant. A hand on his shoulder was the only reply.

"I'm telling you this for a reason, Harry. Perhaps more than one reason, but this is most important." Snape kept his hand on Harry's shoulder as he spoke from behind him. "No matter what they do to you–the Dark Lord, his Death Eaters, or the world itself–never let them make you hate. Fear them, mock them, pity them, fight them, kill them if you have to, but don't hate them. Hate is a habit, Harry. It gets into your blood and every day the hatred comes easier, quicker. And then you hate everyone, simply out of habit. Even people you shouldn't hate. People you might have even become friends with if you weren't so used to the hate."

The two stood there in silence. Harry ignored the potion in front of him, his attention focused on the warmth and strength of the hand on his shoulder. After several heartbeats, Snape continued. "Most people who give in to that never find their way out of it. A few escape the darkness, and the lucky ones can even be saved. But for most of us, it's too late, and we get only a final glimmer of light before it's all over."

Snape's words, and the unspoken words lingering between them, were too much for Harry. With relief, he saw his potion fade to a light yellow and grabbed the final ingredients. "Is it ready for the Unicorn Tears, Professor?" His voice wavered.

"Yes." Snape let his hand slide from Harry's shoulder. When the potion shimmered silver, he said simply, "Good job, Harry."

Bottling the potion and cleaning up his area, Harry's thoughts were filled with protests. He kept them to himself, though, as he always did. He set the potion on the shelf above Snape's table and turned to leave when his fatigue caught up with him. Tripping over his own robes, he tumbled head-first toward the Potions Master, who reached out to support him. Harry grabbed onto the man as they collided forcibly, and his stomach flipped. Suddenly, he was falling backwards.

_My cauldron!_ Harry pulled out his wand to steady the cauldron on the table, even as he was falling. With a thud, he hit the ground. Wild brown hair, an ear, and dark blue robes filled his sight as he brought his bare arms up to deflect the other body from landing atop him.

With another lurch of his stomach, Harry felt himself falling again, this time to the right as Snape pushed him sideways.

"Dammit, Harry!" Snape growled. "You have to be more careful. If that cauldron had spilled, it could have destroyed half the rooms up here." Harry shook his head and tried to regain his bearings. Snape was gazing at him with an expectant expression. He held his hand out to Harry. "You are unhurt, I assume." Harry nodded and reached out to accept the other man's help, but pulled his hand back in shock.

"Your Mark. I touched your Mark when we fell." Snape's expression grew stony and he unrolled his sleeves, hiding the brand again. Harry understood Snape's reaction, and stood quickly. "I'm sorry. It's not. . ." Harry tried to sort out what had happened. "When I touched the Mark, I think I entered your mind. It was just like what happens with Voldemort. As soon as I touched your arm, I thought I was falling backward. You charmed the cauldron, right?" Snape's expression was still guarded when he nodded. "I saw that through your eyes. Then I saw me falling on you. I could see my ear, then I pushed me- I mean, you pushed me off you. I guess that broke my contact with the Mark, because after that I was back in my own body, falling sideways again."

"Did you feel anything else?" Snape asked slowly.

"Mostly your annoyance." Harry laughed. "This thing keeps surprising me." He gestured at his scar.

"Indeed," Snape said. "We shall both have to be more careful in the future."

Suddenly worried, Harry asked, "Do you think he saw anything?"

"That is hard to guess. It is my belief that the Mark burns whenever he turns his attention to the bond, and it was not burning during the fall or now. Whatever happened to you most certainly was directed, in some way, through him as the common link. But he was either unaware of it, or it happened too quickly for him to connect it to us." Harry was still a bit terrified, and his expression must have showed it. "Relax, Harry. It is not worth worrying over so close to the summer's end."

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Harry did worry about it, and when he returned to his friends, he shared what happened.

"Do you think that means you can do something to the Mark?" Neville asked, though they were all thinking it.

"Maybe," Harry said. "What do you think, Hermione?"

Frowning, the young witch made some more notes before answering. "I really don't know. It definitely shows that the scar is more like a Mark than anyone ever thought. I wonder what would have happened if the Mark had been burning when it happened."

Harry turned pale. "What do you think that would do?"

"Maybe nothing. Maybe you'd feel whatever Snape did. You might share the pain, or even project it back to Voldemort, since your link probably works both ways, unlike the Mark. Either way, I don't think it's a good idea to try it out."

Harry simply nodded. "The Markings will be tomorrow night. Snape's going in the morning to gather them and get them ready." Everyone nodded. They all knew it was coming, and they all worried for Harry. "I'll take the potion a little before midnight. It should last about four hours."

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Harry had been slipping in and out of Voldemort's mind all day, afraid that some change in plans would cause him to miss the Markings. Everything had remained on schedule, though, and when Harry once again filled himself with rage and faded away from his own body, it was with less than a quarter hour until the ceremony was set to begin.

He was just in time to witness a murder. That was nothing new, of course. A detached part of Harry's mind was relieved that the victim wore a mask. It worried him sometimes that watching Death Eaters die was easier.

_"Remember this. I do not accept failure." He turned his attention to the children kneeling at the foot of the dais. Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Nott were prostrate before him, no doubt taught the proper posture by their loyal parents. The two Ravenclaws, Brocklehurst and Chambers, were doing their best to imitate the Slytherins, as was Summers. He took a deep breath through his mouth, tasting the air. Fear, like a sweet perfume, hovered close, along with another scent, one that was new to the Markings but just as welcome. Awe radiated from the seven, as it had from the Malfoy boy, and he basked in it. This was right, as it should be. His first followers respected and obeyed him as their leader. These new children of his worshiped him as a god. As all would some day._

_ Beckoning the first to approach, he drew his wand. "Why do you come before me, Nott? Why do you give your life to me? For I shall demand nothing less."_

_ Eyes cast to the floor, Nott knelt before him. "My life has always been yours, as you have always been my lord. I come before you to serve you better." _

_ "Well said, my child. Stand and bare your arm." The boy obeyed, and with a whispered spell, the tip of his wand glowed red. The sweet smell of burnt flesh chased away the other scents in the room, and the delicious scream drowned out his chanting as he drove the tip of his wand deeper into the boy's arm. He dipped his mind into the other's pain, savoring it like wine on a connoisseur's tongue. Skin cracked and peeled away as an inky blackness seeped from his wand, curling out in the pattern that decorated all his worshipers and claimed them as his own. Magic encased the student and held him upright as other charms wrapped around his mind and heart and seeped into his bones. Having branded and bound his newest possession, he allowed it to fall and motioned for the next to follow. As the Parkinson girl made her way trembling up the steps to him, Malfoy and Snape, still masked, dragged the unconscious Nott away. He may not survive the night, but most did. And those that died were too weak to be of use anyway. _

Two hours later, Harry shuddered as he pulled himself from the horror. At some point, he had curled into a ball, and now that he was again in control of his body he had no desire to change that.

"Harry? Are you awake?" Ron's voice came from nearby.

"Should we get someone?" Hermione's voice sounded small and unsure.

Harry shook his head–a mistake. Nausea swept through him, and he barely managed to roll over in time to be sick all over the floor. When he stopped trembling, Hermione had already made short work of the mess with a quick spell, and Ginny was sitting on the bed next to him gently rubbing his back.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Neville asked as he handed him a glass of water. "I think Dumbledore's still here, waiting for Snape to get back."

"No, I'll be okay, I guess. It was just. . ."

"Don't talk about it, Harry," Hermione said. She had tucked her quill into her notebook. "It can wait, and you look like you could use some sleep. Do you want us to stay a bit, or just want to try to sleep?"

"I don't think I've ever been this tired. I just want to close my eyes and never open them again."

"Wait a tick," Ron said. "Any idea where Snape keeps the Dreamless Sleep potion?"

"I'd forgotten about that. It's on the shelf above the table on the right. Can you get the bottle that's half empty, not the full one?" Ron took only a moment to find the potion and bring it back. "Thanks Ron."

Ron nodded in response, and Harry was again grateful for his friends' forethought. Taking care of him was becoming second nature, and he looked forward to the day where none of them felt the need to tend to him.

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Morning arrived far too soon, but with some good news. Snape had returned late that night and had canceled the morning's lessons. Harry chose to go back to bed after breakfast. He forgot to take another dose of the potion, though, and woke up sweating with the sound of sizzling flesh playing in his mind.

Lunch found Harry still in bed, but sitting up and avoiding sleep at all cost. Somehow, shortly after his nightmare had forced him awake, the other students had found their way into his room, one by one. Jokes, games, and pointless chatter filled the morning and distracted him from thinking about why his hands were still shaking. It also distracted his friends from the haunted look in his eyes, though none would have ever said so to him.

Potions lessons in the afternoon went on as planned, and Harry tried to compose himself as he entered Snape's room.

"I seem to be missing a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion, Mr. Potter. I assume you know its whereabouts."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, Professor. But I took some last night. Just the regular dose. I have the bottle in my room."

"Did not trust your own work?" Snape nodded to the bottle Harry had brewed earlier.

Harry knew he failed to keep his voice steady as he said, "I had a feeling I needed it to be as strong as possible."

Snape nodded, his back still to Harry as he worked at his own cauldron. "And did the Limbless's Draught work?"

"Yeah, it worked perfectly. I almost wish it hadn't."

Snape's eyes were laced with sorrow when he turned around, and he spoke quietly. "It was that bad?" Harry nodded and sat on the stool in front of his work area. "You could not escape his mind, then?"

Harry bit his lip. He had expected the question, and knew he would not be able to lie about it. "I didn't try."

"Why in the world-" Harry looked up to see the other man's dark eyes shift from confusion to anger. "Damn it, Harry. Stupid Gryffindor heroics. You need to worry about yourself a little more and the rest of the world quite a bit less."

"Interesting words coming from a traitorous Slytherin who's going to get himself killed in a week to save me."

"That's my decision Harry."

"Fine. And this one's mine."

Snape glared at him, fists clenched. "I have warned you several times that if you actively sought out the Dark Lord's mind, I'd make sure you regret it."

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "Then throw out the rest of the Dreamless Sleep potion."

The anger seeped from Snape's face. "Honestly, Harry, what were you thinking?" He sat down beside the young man.

"You know what I was thinking. And I learned a lot last night. Or I think I did. I still need to talk to Hermione. I just can't force myself to think too much about it. What he did was horrible enough just to watch, but to feel how he felt. . ." Harry swallowed hard. His throat was getting tight, and he tried hard not to cry. He was too old to start sobbing. "I never knew how much the pain distracted me from his other thoughts. From how much he enjoys it." His voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands as he relived the markings. He could not keep the tears away.

Snape's arm fell across his shoulders, stiff and awkward, and Harry regretted falling apart. He knew Snape was uncomfortable. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he said, "I'm sorry about this, Professor."

"As you should be. That's twice this summer I've had to endure your tears. You really should be doing this with Minerva or Albus, or even Lupin."

"I'd think you'd be used to it."

"It is far easier to tolerate hysterics when you have gone out of your way to cause the break down. At the very least, you are not expected to try to stop someone's tears when you are too busy enjoying them."

Harry found a smile. "Careful, Professor. There's that sense of humor again."

Snape glanced down at him. "Nonsense."


	14. Chapter 14

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 14

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The day after the Markings, Harry discovered that time, and even the Order of the Phoenix itself, was against him in his plight to save his professor. Rather than having time to spend with his friends trying to figure out everything Harry had witnessed, he was packing up his trunk. As he and the rest scoured the manor in search of items misplaced over the past few months, he found himself thinking of Luna and her similar plight at the end of last term. He wondered if she had spotted any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

With his trunk finally ready and waiting at the door alongside his friends' for transport to Hogwarts, Harry sat in the kitchen and complained to Remus about the sudden change in living arrangements. "I don't see why we all have to go back to the school now. The term doesn't start till next week."

"You know it's safer there, Harry. It's just a matter of time before this place is found out, after all. Besides, your teachers need to prepare the school and we can't spare anyone to keep an eye on you kids."

Harry was about to protest that they were not "kids" and did not need constant monitoring, but closed his mouth. He knew Remus was right, and he really did not mind going back to the school. But he also knew that the answer to saving Snape was buried somewhere in what he had seen yesterday, and he resented having to spend most of the day doing anything but sort it all out.

Mrs. Weasley ushered her children, along with Neville and Hermione, into to kitchen. She, it seemed, agreed with Harry.

"I can be spared, Remus. And I told Albus as much, but he chose to dismiss the idea."

"It's not safe here, Molly. Or it won't be for much longer. Hogwarts has wards-"

"It doesn't have me!" Mrs. Weasley slammed a pan down on the counter. Harry nearly jumped out of his chair. He had seen his friends' mother upset at all manner of things, but she had never seemed so _angry_. Her hands were white and Harry could almost imagine they were denting the pan she gripped. "It's a mother's job to protect her children."

"Molly," Remus said calmly, "if, through some feat of magic far beyond anything even You-Know-Who has yet managed, a group of Death Eaters were to get into Hogwarts, past the wards and teachers and the Aurors, do you know what will happen?" Harry saw Mrs. Weasley flinch at the mention of Death Eaters, but she did not answer. Remus sat back in his chair and charmed the silverware on the table to stand on end. "Their first act will be to separate Harry from his friends."

Remus sent a spoon hovering to one side and four forks to another. A wall of knives floated between them. "Do you know what happens then?" Remus asked casually. Nodding to the spoon, he continued. "Harry will proceed to protect his friends." Gesturing to the forks, he said, "And his friends will proceed to protect him. And do you know what else will happen? Ron will protect his little sister. Ginny will protect her big brother. Just like they promised. Hermione will step up to the challenge in a manner that will surpass anything she has done in the past, and that is no small thing. And Neville, well, Neville's a Longbottom." Remus gazed at his dancing silverware thoughtfully for a moment. With a flick of his wand, the knives dropped from the air and clattered on the table. "Hell, Molly, I almost feel bad for the Death Eaters." Everyone at the table sat up a bit straighter when Remus mentioned their name, and Harry wished he felt as confident as the werewolf appeared.

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "I wish I could agree with you, Remus."

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Just as the group finished dinner, Snape swept into the kitchen and ordered them to the attic. They had missed all lessons that day due to their packing, and Harry had not even known the man was in the building. But there had always been an understanding that in the evening the students were left to their own devices, and all were curious.

Upstairs, Snape stood beside a table that held several ornate wooden boxes. _Pencil cases? _ Harry thought.

With no preamble, Snape picked up the boxes and handed on to each. Harry's bore the letters "HP" engraved across the top, and he looked over to see that everyone got one with their own monogram.

"What I am giving you," Snape lectured, "is not to be mistaken for a gift. It is not an indication of warm regards, or, for that matter, any particular recession of dislike." He flashed a signature sneer before continuing. "So I will insist that any misplaced feelings of gratitude not be accompanied with a display of such. Are we clear?" Everyone nodded, and the man looked expectantly at them. As no one seemed willing to take the lead, Harry finally opened his box.

Resting on dark green velvet, Harry found a wand. Not just a wand, but his wand. His hand quickly found the reassuring length of wood in his robe pocket, and he looked at his friends, confused. His friends, however, had opened their own gifts-that-were-not-gifts, and were displaying various degrees of awe. Next to him, Ron was holding up a flawless masterpiece. He held it for Harry to see. Even the grains of the wood seemed perfectly placed. Hermione, Ginny and Neville were comparing theirs, all too caught up in their own excitement. From where he stood, and having very little experience with wands, Harry could still see that the ones his friends held were as much a work of art as a tool. He gazed again into his own box and tried not to be disappointed at its ordinariness.

"These wands are not the sturdy, functional pieces that Ollivander spits out," Snape said, maintaining his lecturing tone. "They were fashioned in Barcelona by the De Montanas." Every jaw but Harry's dropped at that revelation. Harry knew he was missing something, and as usual, Ron leaned over and filled him in.

"The De Montanas make the best wands in the world! These must have cost a fortune!"

"The cost, Mr. Weasley, is immaterial." He raised a hand to forestall their thanks, and Harry knew better than to protest the man's casual reference to the rapidly approaching first day of school. "Again, I will not tolerate any gratitude. You will not be using these wands during your lessons. In fact, you will not show them to anyone at all. Like the potions-belt, they are to be kept secret."

Snape plucked the wooden case from Ron's hand and lifted the velvet bottom out. From underneath, he pulled out a piece of cloth. "This is a wrist holster for the wand. There should be one in each of your boxes. The wands themselves are made of the same type of materials as your existing Ollivander ones, simply a far better quality. As such, there should very little adjustment needed to use them." He handed the holster and box to Ron and stepped back again. "At some point, you will all be disarmed by a Death Eater. And, as Death Eaters are generally unable to keep from gloating over a disarmed opponent, I will take that opportunity to reach up from the grave and strike at them a final time. The wands are not gifts; they are my last act of revenge."

No one seemed to know what to say, and Harry assumed Snape had planned it that way. "You may go. The others will want to travel soon." Everyone nodded dumbly, and some mix of fear and obedience kept anyone from even uttering a thank-you. "Remain a moment, Potter."

With the rest gone, Harry finally plucked the wand from its case. He did not want to appear ungrateful, and some part of him berated himself for even having to put on a facade. Presents were too rare in his life for him to take anyone's generosity for granted, but he could not help but feel let down. As he turned the wand over in his hand, he realized that not only had Snape given him a wand that was far less impressive than what the others had received, it was nearly an exact duplicate. Still, he had no right to be disappointed.

"Not much to look at, is it?" Snape said. Harry never grew used to Snape's penchant for knowing his thoughts.

"It's lovely, sir." Harry lied. "I know you said you didn't want us to say thanks, but-"

"You're disappointed, which is to be expected. However, Harry, I can assure you that far more planning and work went into the wand you hold than went into any of the others. For those, I simply had the De Montanas match the wood and core and left the aesthetics to them. Yours had to be a nearly exact replica. There is a difference, though I do not know if you have held it properly yet to have discovered it."

Puzzled, Harry shifted the wand. Holding it as if ready to cast a spell, Harry felt a subtle series of ridges under his thumb. "It's notched or something."

Snape nodded. "Done so you can tell them apart. Have you figured out why yours needed to look the same as the old?"

"Because of Voldemort," Harry said simply.

"I am gratified to see you thinking logically rather than with sentimentality."

"I don't suppose I am, Professor. I don't really know why. But everything's because of Voldemort, so it seemed a good guess." Harry knew the joke came out flat, and Snape gave him one of those looks that could almost border on sympathetic.

"I suppose that is true," Snape said. "As for the wand, there is one quality that was deliberately not reproduced." He looked to be waiting for Harry to catch up.

"The core's not from Fawkes?"

"Correct. That may or may not be liability, Harry, but both Albus and I feel that it is best if your spare wand not be linked to the Dark Lord's. While that may have saved your life once, you cannot assume that he will be unprepared next time. It is possible that he will even find a way to use that against you."

"So if he does, he won't be able to tell which wand I'm using." Harry caught on, and he suddenly felt stupid for feeling bad about the gift.

"Correct. As for which to use when you find yourself face to face with him, it may very well prove immaterial. But if not, only you will be in a position to choose."

Harry had another thought. "If they look the same, I can use mine around other people, right? No one at school would know the difference?"

"As long as you are careful not to display both at one time, I see no reason why you cannot use that wand instead of the other if you want." The young man smiled. He liked the idea of hiding his secret in plain sight. It also more than made up for the ordinariness of his wand. As beautiful as everyone else's were, at least he could use his whenever he wanted.

Harry still wanted to thank the man but was again interrupted. "You should go, Harry. They are no doubt waiting." With a wince, Snape's hand went up to grip his Mark through his robe. "And please tell whomever is still here that I will join the faculty back at the school when I am able."

Harry's eyes grew wide at the strain in Snape's voice. "It's burning? You didn't expect to be called, did you?"

"No, I did not. And the pull is very strong. Something is afoot." Before Harry could ask anything else, Snape was out the door and moving swiftly down the stairs.

Harry followed, and after a few moments taken to explain Snape's sudden departure, the group of students were portkeyed to Hogwarts. Harry rushed his friends to the Gryffindor common room as soon as he could get away from the adults without raising suspicion. Once they were alone, Harry dropped his trunk and sat on one of the couches.

"I'm checking up on Snape," he said. "He wasn't expecting to be called back to Voldemort this week."

"Do you think he's been discovered?" Neville asked.

"I don't know. Voldemort may just be checking about what he's got planned for me. Probably wants to gloat. I'll try not to be long." The group looked nervous, but everyone nodded. Harry was relieved that no one tried to talk him out of it.

Getting into Voldemort's mind took little effort. He no longer needed to get himself quite so worked up, and he took that as a sign that he had more control over the bond now that he had taken the time to focus on it.

_Dark stone walls slid past as he made his way down the hall in long, flowing strides. The sound of his servant's steps followed him, as he expected._

_"She is waiting in your laboratory. If she dies too soon, I will be most displeased."_

_"Yes, my Lord." Snape's voice carried from behind as they entered a dark chamber. A long table held orderly rows of potions. Behind them, shackled to the wall, was the prize. Snape stepped into view and went over to the prisoner. As the Potions Master studied her wounds, Voldemort savored the taste of blood in the air. Unable to resist, he approached his latest toy and tilted her face into the dim candlelight. Dried blood glued her hair to her face, but he could still make out her features. And her eyes were slightly open. So she was conscious, if only barely. That was good. It meant she was strong. Many young girls her age had died after much less. He would make sure that strength lasted the week as he made her pay for aiding Potter._

_ "Miss Lovegood," Snape said, his voice cold and distant. "I see my master has caught up to you. You should have killed yourself." With a soft snicker, the teacher grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her head back. Pouring a potion down her throat, he let go of her and her head dropped heavily against her chest. "She will survive, my Lord. In a few hours, she will be well and whole again for your amusement. I am honored that you have trusted me with her life just as you have trusted me with her boyfriend's death."_

_ "Boyfriend?" Voldemort's voice hissed from his steely throat. "Potter is her boyfriend?" Satisfaction filled him as he planned new ways to make the girl scream for her own death. Yes, calling Snape here was the correct choice. Only a Master could keep the girl alive through what he would do to her._

_ "I have just learned of it myself, my Lord. They have been corresponding through Dumbledore all summer. No doubt the pining brat has already emptied the stockroom of every candy store in Hogsmeade as he anxiously awaits her arrival tonight." Another snicker. "And her father? He is dead?"_

_ "Alive when your brethren left him, but wounded and wandless. I am told he will not survive the night. Though I care little if he lives or dies. She was the target."_

_ "Of course, my Lord." Snape bowed respectfully and turned to his work table. "She shall need an hour or so before my potions have her healed to your satisfaction. Shall I have a chair brought for you here?"_

_ The man was such a good servant, always mindful of his place and always careful to see to his Lord's needs. "There is no need. I will leave you to your work. Had I known that Potter cared for her, I would have instructed my children to be more careful in her capture. See to it that she recovers completely."_

_ "Of course, my Lord. I promise she will not disappoint you. I will inform you as soon as she is ready." _

_ With a nod, he turned away and left the room. In an hour, he would play. Maybe he would have Severus show Potter pieces of the girl before he killed him._

Harry pulled himself away, worried that his revulsion would become strong enough for Voldemort to sense through the scar. Disoriented for a moment, Harry pulled himself together as the full weight of Snape's odd comments hit him.

"Voldemort's got Luna!" Harry jumped from the couch and ran to his trunk, rummaging around for the Marauder's Map and his cloak. "Snape's going to free her. We need to meet them under Honeydukes."

"Wait a minute Harry," Hermione said as Harry made for the portrait hole. "We need to tell someone what's going on. If you heard what Snape said, Voldemort did too, didn't he?"

"It was in code. There's no time to explain, Hermione. We should tell someone, though. Can Crookshanks get a message to Dumbledore? Or Remus, if he's still here?"

"Brilliant!" Hermione paused to write a quick note which she tucked under Crookshank's collar. "Take this to Headmaster Dumbledore, Crookshanks. Run!" The cat took off, an orange streak heading down the corridor. Harry watched the animal with satisfaction, hoping that it was indeed trying to find the Headmaster and not off looking for garden gnomes.

The group made it to the passage in record time. As they neared the end of the tunnel, Harry slowed to a halt. "We need a plan. There will probably be people up there, and Luna looked really bad. Snape can't just carry her into the basement of Honeydukes. I'm going to go up with the invisibility cloak."

"Let's all go up," said Ron. "We can sneak up one at a time. If any Death Eaters show, we'll be there to help."

Harry nodded. "We should still have some time before Voldemort notices he's missing. But that's a good plan. If we can't all get back into the passage, use the Shrieking Shack or head for the gate, okay? I don't know what the wards are like on the secret passages, but we should be safe if we use the regular gate. Hopefully Dumbledore will send someone there." Everyone agreed, and Harry slipped his cloak on and headed through the trapdoor.

Out in the street, Harry picked an out of the way corner and watched the crowd. How long would Snape take to get here? How much time had passed since Voldemort left him alone with Luna? Harry cursed himself for not checking the time earlier. Moments passed, and Harry saw Ron come out of Honeydukes. He made his way behind his friend and whispered in his ear, causing Ron to jump. "See that corner over there? Right where the post office sticks out into the street? I'll be there, okay? Try to find somewhere on the other side of the street. I don't know where Snape'll be coming from." Having collected himself, Ron nodded silently and made his way down the street just as Hermione and Ginny came out onto the street and casually window-shopped as they headed further away.

Scanning the crowd, Harry spotted a flash of dark robes hidden by shrubs. Wand out, Harry crept along until he spotted his professors face. Relieved but still wary, he avoided stepping on any twigs or leaves as he approached. "Professor," he whispered as he neared. Snape looked up, eyes alert. "It's me, Professor. It's Harry." The other man nodded, still searching for the source of the voice. Harry rested his hand on the Potion Master's shoulder. Now he could see that he was cradling Luna against him, and the girl was almost entirely enveloped in his robes. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She will be fine. I gave her healing potions, and one for sleep. Her wounds are serious, but Madame Pomfrey can restore her. And how are you managing to stay hidden?"

"Invisibility cloak," Harry explained. "I'm going to put it around you, okay? Do you know where the trapdoor in Honeydukes is?"

"No, I have never used that particular passage. Lupin informed me of it just this summer."

"Then I'll have to sneak back in there with you." Harry glanced around for onlookers and swept off the cloak. Wasting no time, he draped it over Snape's shoulders and tucked it around Luna.

When Harry returned to the street, neither Ron nor the girls were in sight. Worried about their disappearance, Harry forced himself to trust them to find their own way back to the school. Once inside the candy store again, he heard Snape's voice just behind him. "You will need to wait for the right moment before going into the basement. I will meet you there." Harry felt something unseen brush against his back and knew that any response would not be heard.

Pretending to peruse the new batch of Lava Gumballs, he edged closer to the doorway. Finally, opportunity presented itself in the form of a toddler, a barrel of Slippery Suckers, and a suddenly very distracted store attendant. Once back in the cellar, Harry pulled the trapdoor open, surprising Neville, who barely contained his shriek of surprise.

"Everything okay, Harry?" he asked, then contained another shriek as Snape materialized in front if him. Harry followed him into the passage and pulled the door closed. Snape was kneeling now, and had his fingers pressed against Luna's neck.

"She remains stable," the professor announced.

"Lumos," Harry said, bathing the four in a white light. Now that he could see her clearly, Harry's heart started thumping harder in his chest. Blood and dirt was caked in her hair and on her face, and several gashes on her sleeves were stained red. Neville was staring at her.

Without a word, Snape stood and hurried down the corridor, leaving Harry and Neville to catch up. After a hundred meters, he stopped suddenly. Eyes narrowed, he turned around and glared at Neville. "Longbottom, take her." Neville stammered something, but held his arms out.

"She hardly weighs anything at all," Neville said to Harry.

"She has lost a good deal of blood. Blood has weight. As such, the more blood she loses, the less she will weigh. She is still a burden, however, and for now, she is your burden, not mine." The words were cruel and cold as he spoke them, and Neville turned white at the callousness. Harry was taken aback, but realization dawned on him quickly. Neville stumbled forward, still gripping his wounded friend to him, and Harry and Snape led the way.

"How long until he finds out?" Harry asked Snape in a voice he hoped Neville wouldn't hear.

"Not long, I would imagine. Tell Poppy that she was given nothing unusual, and the curses that caused her wounds have all faded. There should be no residual magic to complicate her treatment."

Harry's jaw clenched. This was not supposed to happen! He knew the secret to freeing Snape was somewhere in his head. He just needed time to find it. He needed to talk to Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore about what he had seen the other night. He was supposed to have another week, not mere minutes.

Light from ahead of them caused the three to slow down. Harry grabbed the invisibility cloak from Snape and ran ahead as he pulled it over him. If enemies were coming for them, they would soon get a surprise.

But no enemies were lurking, only a frantic Remus, who nearly ran into Harry as the boy removed the cloak. "Remus! We've got Snape and Luna. We're okay, but I don't know where Ron, Hermione and Ginny are. They may be at the gate."

"Albus is going down through the gate, Harry, don't worry. If they're there, he'll find them. And if they're in trouble, that's the best place for him to be."

"What about the Shrieking Shack? I told them to use that passage if they had to." Harry was consumed with worry, but knew that panicking would only slow down everyone.

"Damn!" Remus draw his wand. "We didn't send anyone that way. Don't worry, Harry. I'll head out through Honeydukes and come back through the Shack. I know the old place better than anyone else. Do you know if any Death Eaters are about?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't see anyone I recognized, and if Voldemort knew Snape had betrayed him, we'd know it. But it's just a matter of time." Remus nodded in understanding. With a final, unreadable look at Snape, Remus saluted with his wand and ran down the passage to Hogsmeade. Neville awkwardly shifted Luna's weight, and Snape motioned for them all to continue. They did not make it very far.

Harry had taken a few steps when Snape let out a gasp and fell against the wall. He rushed to his teacher's side to find him grasping his arm. Caught between a friend nearly dead and a friend he knew was quickly dying, Harry made a quick decision.

"Neville, can you make it back to the castle alone?" Neville nodded confidently at the question, but his gaze quickly turned, worried, to Snape. "Get help for Luna, then. I'm going to stay here with Snape. Send Dumbledore down here as soon as you can, though. I think we're both going to need him."

With Neville running as fast as he could with his burden, Harry grabbed Snape's wrist. The man was not making a sound, but his whole body shook violently. Harry's scar throbbed in time, and he knew he was feeling rage beyond anything Voldemort had sent to him before. His mind raced as he conjured up every conversation he and Hermione had had about the Mark. But it had always been conjecture. What if this, what if that. . . What if. . .

_ What if the Mark had been burning? _ Hermione's voice came to him. She had no answers to that, either, but her guesses were the best thing he had to go on. It might kill him; it might make it worse. But it might work.

Before he could reconsider, Harry grabbed Snape's arm. The man was writhing in pain, and it took all of Harry's strength to pull the man's arm away from his chest long enough to push up the sleeve. In a single motion, Harry laid his arm across the now bloody Mark that burned across Snape's flesh and cast a binding charm. Ropes tangled around both forearms, pressing Harry's skin to Snape's. With the contact made, Harry slipped out of himself and into a world filled with pain.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N** I've gotten some great reviews lately, and I want to again thank everyone who took the time and made the effort to drop me a note. A few of you wrote quite a bit and dove in deeply, and I'm flattered that some folks think so highly of the story to even bother. So thanks again to everyone. And since the last chapter ended a bit abruptly (okay, yes, it was a cliffhanger) I promptly finished Chapter 15. I didn't want Harry and Snape to be stuck like that for too long.

Aethen

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 15

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Neville and Dumbledore found Harry unconscious beside his professor. Snape lay on his stomach and did not seem to be breathing at all; closer inspection revealed a spark of life, though little else. Harry, on the other hand, was facing them, eyes open, but if he saw anything it was clearly not in the passage they were in. His back was arched, and the arm bound to Snape was twisted out of any natural shape. It was Dumbledore who, at a loss, decided to keep the magical ropes intact as they were levitated to the infirmary. The immediate danger of the Death Eaters had passed. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had left very little for Lupin to take care of at the Shrieking Shack. The four followers of Voldemort would wake up to find themselves on their way to Azkaban.

"I am sure," Dumbledore had said to Neville as they guided the two latest patients into Pomfrey's care, "that both Harry and Professor Snape will be fine. It seems that our Harry has once again managed to out-wit our enemy."

Neither were convinced that Harry and Snape would recover, but they pretended to, if just for the others' sake.

Hours later, emerald eyes opened slowly to the familiar surroundings of the Hogwarts infirmary. His arm ached; his back was sore and on fire with the pain of a hundred scrapes and bruises. And though it felt like nothing in the world could hurt more than the blacksmith pounding on the inside of his skull, the piercing, streaking agony of his scar somehow managed to. With a whimper, he closed his eyes and hoped that whatever had caused him this much pain had blessed him with amnesia along with it.

It had not, of course, and after a minute he recalled the passage and Snape's final act of heroism. But perhaps not final. If Harry had survived, it was possible that the other man had too. His need to know overpowered the pain, and he forced his eyes open again. Empty beds surrounded him. With a small sigh, Harry let his head fall back into the pillow and closed his eyes.

Madame Pomfrey's voice came from above him, though he could not bring himself to open his eyes again. "I see you're awake, Harry. Professor Dumbledore says you seem free of dangerous magic, though he anticipated you would be in a good deal of pain when you woke up. I'm giving you something for it, and to help you sleep." He felt a bottle press against his lips and opened his mouth. The familiar taste of medicine greeted his tongue, and he hoped for quick relief. He wanted to sleep so he could avoid remembering what happened when his arm met Snape's Mark. The potion must have been strong, as he felt himself slipping away almost immediately. From the darkness, he heard Pomfrey's final words. "He says you saved Professor Snape's life, too."

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When Harry woke again, it was to the sound of hushed voices carrying from the next room. He could make out Hermione's high pitch and Dumbledore's steady tones. Questions crowded his thoughts, and he pulled himself out of bed. _How long had he been unconscious? How was Snape? And Luna? _ He needed to know, and he knew where to find answers. It dawned on him that the pain in his head and scar was nearly gone, though he still lacked the energy to make it to the door unaided. Using the row of beds for support, Harry shuffled towards the door.

Hermione nearly knocked him over when she jumped at him. Luckily, her hug turned into a lent arm as she helped him to a chair. Dumbledore simply smiled and offered him a cup of tea as if he had been expected.

"I am glad to see you awake, Harry," Dumbledore said. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak, but the pain's almost gone. How are Professor Snape and Luna? And Mr. Lovegood? Voldemort said Luna's father was injured."

"They did not fare quite as well as you, it seems, but they will recover. Madame Pomfrey is tending to Miss Lovegood's remaining injuries. She will be out of the infirmary before the start of term. She has been in and out of consciousness, and was able to tell us about her father. A search party found him several hours ago. He is at St. Mungo's. As for your professor, I suspect he went through much the same ordeal as you did. Miss Granger has been sharing some very interesting theories about your scar and his Mark. He is resting, and will no doubt awaken soon."

"He's still unconscious, then?" Harry worried what that meant.

Dumbledore nodded but his smile did not fade. "For now, yes. He was weakened by Voldemort's spell, but it seems the Dark Lord failed, thanks to you."

"What happened?" Harry looked to Hermione, hoping she could shed some light on everything. He had been acting on instinct in the passage.

"Remember when Neville asked what would happen if you touched the Mark when it was burning?"

Harry smiled. "I remember. That's why I did it."

Hermione frowned. "Well, it looks like you found out, then. Voldemort's spell was draining Professor Snape's life. When you touched the Mark, it started draining you. You both should have died, Harry." She pursed her lips, and Harry was saved a lecture when Dumbledore rested his hand on her arm. She sat back in her chair and shot Harry another look. "Anyway, we think, and we can't really verify this, that Voldemort was caught in it too, because of your scar. The Death Eaters we captured in Hogsmeade yesterday started screaming and clawing at their Marks when it happened."

Harry tried to concentrate on what he had seen and felt after touching Snape's Mark. It was difficult to remember anything but the pain, but he also recalled an unmistakable presence as well. "Yeah, Voldemort was definitely there too. I don't know if I was in his mind or Snape's, though."

"Do not trouble yourself with such details, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "We know that Death Eaters as far away as Azkaban felt the pain. The Ministry has had its hands full all day dealing with this. Some very highly placed wizards were seen to be in a great deal of pain, and Aurors have been dispatched. In addition to saving your professor's life, you have most certainly exposed many of Voldemort's hidden supporters. And Voldemort himself is likely feeling much as you do right now."

Harry nodded in understanding. This was all good news, but right now he was only interested in making sure his friends were okay. The Ministry could deal with the rest. Though the idea that Voldemort suffered the same headache he had woken up with earlier was somewhat satisfying.

"Do you think he'll try again?"

"I am quite certain of it, Harry." Dumbledore's thick eyebrows came together. "But for now, he is safe. Voldemort will not endanger himself, not even for revenge. He will have Professor Snape attacked directly."

"Or wait until I'm too far away to help," Harry said.

"That is assuming he knows of your involvement. I have allowed information to be leaked to several of his spies that it was I who deflected the attack. As long as we do not know what he believes, we must give no indication that you were involved. Is that clear?"

Harry agreed, but, naturally, still worried. "But we're just guessing that he doesn't know it was me, right? There's a chance he was looking through my eyes, just like I can do with him. He may have seen the whole thing, or at least that I was there. And he may have felt me there. I know I felt him. And maybe he-"

Dumbledore stopped him with a raised hand. "You are right, of course. And that is why Miss Granger is here filling me in on everything she has learned of your scar and Professor Snape's Mark. When you are feeling up to it, you can add what you learned the other night."

"I'm up to it right now. Do you have your notebooks, Hermione?" But Dumbledore shook his head and stood.

"Not tonight, Harry. You need rest. And Voldemort will not attempt that particular spell again until he is certain that whomever caused it to fail has been dealt with." He reached over and gave Harry's shoulder a light squeeze. "Let us hope that you never again have to pay such a price to buy us some time."

When Dumbledore had gone, Harry asked Hermione to tell Ron and the others that he was awake, but also asked her to keep them from the infirmary for a little while.

"I will. And Harry?" She gave him another hug, resting her head on his shoulder as she sighed. "I was going to ask you never to scare us again like that, but you'd just break that promise, wouldn't you?"

"I don't do it on purpose," Harry said, defensive.

"I know you don't. You know what the problem is? There's a dozen people who'd rather die than see you get hurt. But somehow we still end up okay while you're in the infirmary again." Harry squeezed her tight and kissed her cheek. He wondered if she knew just how much of the strength everyone thought he had really came from her and Ron and everyone else around him. He leaned back from her embrace and caught her hands in his.

"I'm not the only one that got hurt this time, though. Snape and Luna almost died because of me."

"Harry, you can't-"

"Don't worry, Hermione. I don't feel guilty. I've decided I'm not going to do that any more. Instead, I'm going to make sure I deserve what they did for me."

"You do, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Not yet. But I will. Someday I will." He struggled to his feet. The knowledge that much of his life force had been stolen was very easy to believe. "Help me find Snape and Luna? I'd like to sit with them for a little bit before everyone else comes up to visit."

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Hermione helped Harry into the other ward where Pomfrey was fretting over Snape and Luna. She explained that the two were under more active observation, which had led to Harry being left alone to rest. From the door, Harry spotted the dark form of his professor arguing with Madame Pomfrey. He did not think Snape had seen them, but quickly learned otherwise.

"If that is so," Snape replied to something Pomfrey had said, "then what is he doing out of bed?" Snape nodded in Harry's direction. Madame Pomfrey turned around and was immediately horrified.

"Harry! You should be in bed. And Miss Granger! Helping him! You know he needs rest." Hermione looked suitably guilty, but Harry obstinately refused to repent.

"I will, Miss Pomfrey. But the potions you gave me have helped a lot. I'd like to sit in here a little, if that's okay."

Pomfrey looked to Snape for support, but found no ally there. "It seems I am in no position to argue. I am merely a patient here." Harry grinned. If Snape was going to let him stay out of spite, who was he to argue?

Throwing her hands up, Pomfrey gave in, but insisted that Harry be in bed when she returned in an hour. Harry agreed, Snape sneered, and Hermione left before Pomfrey decided to lecture the only healthy one there.

"So, Mr. Potter. Yet again, you could not resist meddling, hmm?"

Harry took that as the closest thing to gratitude he would get from the man and chose to play along. "Well, I'm getting good at it. Besides, I told everyone two months ago that no one could stop me from helping my friends."

"Miss Lovegood was in no danger once I handed her to Longbottom."

"I wasn't talking about Luna. She's not the only friend who Voldemort tried to kill today, you know," Harry responded.

"You positively reek of griffins," Snape said cooly. "Are you aware of that?"

Harry laughed, and fired back. "Another slap at Gryffindors? That's hardly becoming from a man who's shown more Gryffindor tendencies than any six Slytherins I know."

Snape turned his nose up. "Mr. Potter, there is no need to be vulgar. And surely you can insult me without resorting to slander and lies."

Harry laughed again and smiled, not afraid to let Snape know how much he was enjoying this. "It's not a lie, though. Let's count. First, you saved me from flying off my broom first year. Now, I suppose you could say that you only did it because you wanted to show up Quirrell, but there were better, and more public, opportunities for that. Anyway, that's not even the good part. Remember third year? When you realized that four people you truly despised were about to be attacked by a werewolf? I bet you didn't even stop to curse any stray puppies before you headed to the Shrieking Shack. Now, you're going to argue that you only wanted to get revenge on Sirius, but you knew Remus hadn't taken his potion that night, so you could have just sat back and looked forward to years of peace without us." Snape crossed his arms and turned away from Harry.

"I do not have to listen to these groundless accusations."

"Yes you do. Pomfrey's not coming back for an hour. Besides, there's just one more. And it's a good one too. Remember after we left the shack? When you jumped in front of me and Ron and Hermione? I know for a fact that you know how to identify a werewolf. You taught the class on it, after all, so you must have realized that you were standing between a magic-resistant killing machine and three students you didn't even like."

"As you saved my life yesterday and are no doubt suffering some kind of mental anguish as a result, I am going to excuse these groundless accusations. But should you ever repeat them, I assure you I will leave you wishing Lupin had dispatched of you that night."

"Oh, don't worry, Professor. I'm sure you'll be more careful in the future and hide your secret nice streak better."

"Nonsense."

An easy silence settled over the room. Harry let his attention fix on Luna, who was resting across the room. She had been cleaned of the blood and grime, and even the gash in her head was nothing but a dark red line.

"The girl will recover, I assume. And her father?" Snape asked, watching Harry's gaze.

Harry nodded. "She told Dumbledore about her father, and they sent someone out looking for him. Did you know him? You asked Voldemort about him."

"I have met him, yes. And I have read his editorials regarding Fudge. And while we are on the subject of what I said to the Dark Lord, I should be punishing you for going against my direct orders and entering his mind on purpose."

"You knew I'd do it, though. Even when you told me not to, you knew I would. And you gambled on it last night."

"I had little choice."

"You had a choice. You could have healed her up just like Voldemort wanted, then come back to the school and killed me."

"I do not consider that a viable option. And before you give me one of those be-damned smirks, let me assure you that it was not an option for me long before you arrived."

"I'd never suggest otherwise, Professor. I know you were nice before I got here."

"Nonsense."

Harry grinned and gave up tormenting his professor. "Professor Dumbledore says Voldemort probably won't try to use the Mark like that again. That's good news, I suppose."

Snape simply nodded.

"He also says you'll be a target for physical attacks. I guess you'll be confined to Hogwarts for a while."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Yes, his followers will kill me on sight. I always suspected this place was Purgatory. Perhaps my years of teaching will count toward my penance."

Harry scoffed. "Don't look to me for sympathy. It isn't as bad as all that. I've managed quite well so far, and, no offense professor, but I don't think you rate quite as highly as I do on Voldemort's list of people to kill slowly." Harry took on an air of mock arrogance.

"Typical, Potter. Have to be number one at everything, don't you?"

"I can't help it. I'm a spoiled brat and I love attention. Even attention from Death Eaters and Dark Lords."

Harry strongly suspected that Snape was on the verge of a chuckle when he heard Ron's voice from the other side of the door. Instead of a chuckle, he elicited a low growl from the Potions Master who closed his eyes when Harry called his friends into the room.

Ginny and Neville peered cautiously through the doorway as Ron and Hermione marched up to Harry. Ron gave his friend a hearty thump on the back. "All right, Harry?" Harry responded with a grin and a nod, and Ron waved the others inside.

"Pomfrey won't be in to check on them for another twenty minutes," Ron said confidently. "She always does a final check just before she changes for dinner."

"Dare I ask how you have such knowledge of Madame Pomfrey's habits?" Snape emphasis on the woman's honorific rebuked Ron for his casual reference to the Mediwitch.

"Harry's spent so much time in here, we've had to get past _Madame_ Pomfrey more often than the Fat Lady," Ron replied. "And I didn't realize you were awake, Professor. I hope you're feeling well."

Snape raised an eyebrow as Harry looked curiously at his friend. Snape replied, "I would be better if I were left in peace."

"Of course," Hermione said. "We're sorry for bothering you. Harry, should we help you back to the other ward?"

"Oh, uh, I wanted to ask Madame Pomfrey if I could stay in here, actually. I don't much feel like being alone. Would it be okay if we talked a little bit on the other side of the room, professor?"

Snape waved his hand in dismissal. "Provided you can keep your voices down."

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Later, after Harry convinced Madame Pomfrey that he would not disturb Luna or Snape, and after pointing out that it would be easier for her to check on all three patients if they were in the same room, Harry settled in for another nap. Before he drifted off, though, Snape's voice caught his attention.

"He won't try again, Harry. Not any time soon, at least. You don't have to spend the rest of the week within arm's length of me."

"I know that," Harry said. And on a certain level, he did, but he still worried anyway. "It's just too quiet in the other ward. That's all."

"If you say so. And Harry, even if he does try again, you can't spend the rest of your life chained to me, suffering whenever I do. You do not deserve this."

"And you do?" He caught and held Snape's gaze from across the room.

"Yes, I do. I have committed crimes in my life. You know that perfectly well. You also know that I escaped punishment by helping the Order. This is a situation of my own making."

"My whole life has been a situation of someone else's making, Professor, in case you haven't noticed. There are parts of all of this that I can't walk away from. And there are parts I don't want to walk away from. And with all due respect, Sir, we've had this talk before. And now that we know I can help you, I'm not about to stand by and let him kill you just because it hurts a little."

"It hurts a little? Don't you think you're oversimplifying things?"

"It's just pain. After a little bit you pass out and wake up here. Trust me, I've done this before." Harry tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "And if I'm passing out from the pain he's trying to cause you, then I'm not passing out from the pain he's trying to cause me, right? So it all balances out in the end."

Snape did not seem to find that amusing at all.

Harry fell to sleep, hoping that any disturbances would be loud enough to wake him.

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Harry slept through the night, and the next morning he was allowed to join his friends at breakfast. Though his energy was coming back, he had to take the walk to the Great Hall slowly. He had thought Snape was asleep when he left the infirmary and was surprised to see the older man already seated at the single table shared by staff and the small group of students. He had clearly used magical means to get to breakfast. As he took a seat next to Snape, Harry decided not to bring it up at risk of damaging his pride. Last night it seemed the Potions Master had been recovering slower than Harry had.

Dumbledore followed Harry into the room, unusually late for a meal, and said happily, "Severus. And Harry. How wonderful that you are both well enough to join us. Poppy assured me that Miss Lovegood is doing splendidly. She is still in a magical sleep, but should be awake by evening. Minerva, if it is not too much trouble, and if Miss Granger does not object, I think it best that she spend the rest of the week until school starts in Gryffindor tower. Miss Granger can keep an eye on her, though I am confident she will be little trouble."

"Of course, Albus," McGonagall replied. "I am sure Miss Granger will be happy for some company in the girls' dormitory."

Hermione agreed, and Harry looked forward to the chance to show his gratitude for Luna's help in the Department of Mysteries.

Finally, everyone but the three latecomers were still eating and everyone but they and Harry's friends remained at the table. As he reached for a final bit of toast, Harry noticed Snape was gripping his arm through his robe. A closer look revealed lines of pain around his eyes. The Mark was burning, and he was trying to hide it. Without comment, Harry leaned back into his chair and slipped away from himself. A few brief moments passed and Harry pulled away from Voldemort's mind. Harry looked around cautiously, but it seemed that no one had noticed his mental absence.

Leaning close, Harry whispered to Snape, "Give me your arm, professor."

Snape shook his head but kept his attention firmly fixed on his plate. "It will pass."

"He's testing the bond, professor. He wants to see if you can turn a spell back again. If you don't give me your arm now, I'll just end up rolling up your sleeve when he's decided the first time was a fluke."

Defeated, Snape dropped his arm and let it hang down next to Harry. Quickly, but careful not to bring any attention to himself or Snape, Harry looped his arm around the man's.

_ His view of the table shifted over a meter and he once again found himself staring out of his professor's eyes. The pain in his arm was sharp, but nothing like it had been the other night. The sense of Voldemort's presence was also much dimmer, and Harry focused on keeping his own presence as masked as well he could. For his part, Snape was clearly doing the same. It was only a matter of seconds before the pain was shut off like a valve closing, and he, or rather Snape, pulled his arm away from Harry's. _

Harry took a sip of tea to steady himself and whispered to Snape, "Well, that should keep him away from you for a little bit, at least." Snape only nodded in response.

"Headmaster?" Ginny asked, taking Harry's and Snape's attention from each other. "What's going to happen to Malfoy and the rest? They haven't been arrested yet, have they?"

Dumbledore's eyes dimmed slightly at the question. "As this may be the last time for a good while that I can be candid with you all, I will tell you that they have not been arrested. In fact, I have been unable to bar their return to the school." Dumbledore raised a hand to silence the sudden uproar. "The only evidence against them lies in the minds of Harry and Professor Snape. It is far too dangerous to Harry for his link to Voldemort to be discovered. And any official recognition of Professor Snape's position as a spy will result in a formal hearing. There are those in the Ministry who would demand that he prove he committed no crimes in his pursuit of information."

Harry frowned. It was true that he was terrified of the possibility that Voldemort would use the bond they shared in the same way he himself used it. And if Snape were tried, he would surely be held by the Ministry until the Wizengamut convened. Isolated, Snape would be a target for Voldemort's agents and the Mark itself without Harry to prevent it.

"But they're all Marked. Isn't that enough?" Ron demanded.

"I cannot search an individual student without reason. And the Board of Governors has refused, on several occasions, to allow us to perform a school-wide search. They do have a valid argument. We cannot treat the entire Hogwarts student body as suspects. Not to mention the embarrassment that any comprehensive search would cause."

"So they get to just walk back in like nothing's happened? They'll try to kill Harry! And Professor Snape too!" Ron was livid. Snape snorted at the suggestion that they could be a threat to him.

"It is likely they will try, yes. It is a good thing that you and your friends are so well trained to protect Harry, is it not? And as soon as one of them has taken action, we can use Veritaserum to get the names of the others."

"But 'taking action' means attacking Harry! We can't let them-"

"Ron," Harry interrupted. He caught the glint of a plan in Hermione's eye and wanted to end the argument quickly to find out what she had in mind. "I'm sure the Headmaster has considered all of this. Malfoy and his bunch aren't a match for us. It's like Remus said. I feel bad for the first one of them to try something."

"Yeah," Neville agreed. "And that way, we get to handle at least one of them." Months ago, that comment would have shocked everyone at the table, but no longer. _He's come a long way, _Harry thought.

With the meal done, Snape folded his napkin and set it aside. Pushing his chair away from the table, he looked about to stand when he paused for a moment. "Thank you, Harry," he said, and Harry almost missed the soft whisper over the clatter of dishes. He did not wait for a response as he stood and slowly made his dignified way from the room, leaving Harry not a little surprised.

After breakfast, the group headed to the library. Harry would be meeting with the faculty after lunch to discuss the Markings, and Hermione had begged her way in as well, but for the time being, they had the fate of Malfoy and four others to deal with.

"What have you got planned, Hermione?" Harry asked with no preamble. She grinned back at him.

"Was I that obvious?" She asked. Ron and the rest looked puzzled. "I bet we can keep those slime-balls from stepping foot in Hogwarts. It shouldn't be that hard, but we can't let Dumbledore or anyone else know what we've got planned. If they end up going to trial, it all has to look like an accident."

They pulled their chairs together, and Hermione began.


	16. Chapter 16

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 16

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"Yes, sir. It was the same spells every time and always in the same order." Harry was being grilled by Flitwick now. McGonagall had already hammered him with questions after Dumbledore had had his turn. He was exhausted, and as much as the memory of the half dozen Markings he had witnessed made his stomach churn, he pressed on. Hermione had become the unofficial scribe, taking down every question and answer in Dumbledore's office.

"I don't understand it, Albus." The diminutive professor shook his head. "There are several spells I don't recognize, but even so, I see no way for them to behave the way the Mark is purported to. I was always under the impression that the Marking was done with a single spell." He frowned and looked around the room a moment. Harry suspected there was something else he wanted to ask. Dumbledore must have sensed that as well.

"What is it, Filius?"

The man smiled nervously. "Well, Headmaster, I understand that I do not normally attend, ah, discussions such as this one. So I hope you will all forgive me if I am treading on a well-worn path. Severus, you have first hand knowledge of the Marking. Is there anything beyond the spell-casting done? Perhaps another step that young Harry is not aware of?"

Snape shook his head. "No, Mr. Potter witnessed the entire procedure. Indeed, he knows more about it than I or anyone else does, now. Outside of the Dark Lord, of course." Harry shivered at the thought of sharing something else with Voldemort. "The Marking is far too painful for anyone undergoing it to remember details. And no one else is permitted to stand close enough to hear anything over the screams. I, too, assumed it to be a single complex spell."

Flitwick nodded in response but looked frustrated at the answer. "No potions are taken prior, then?"

"No. As I said, Potter has described the entire ceremony."

"Yes, of course, Severus. You did say that. If the description is complete, then my knowledge must be lacking."

"Well, then, I believe the next step would be to discover the effects of the spells Mr. Potter has named. Filius, I would be greatly relieved to know you are helping us with this, though I will not demand it of you."

The small man was wringing his hands together nervously. "No need to demand it, Albus. I will provide what aid I can."

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "Then we are sure to succeed."

"I suggest we all begin with our respective specialties, then," McGonagall said to her fellow faculty members. "The restricted section, no doubt, will hold any answers that are to be found in Hogwarts."

Hermione let out something between a squeal and a cough. All eyes turned to her. Harry wondered if they had all forgotten the girl was in the room. Even he had been feeling left out once Flitwick had finished his questions for him. "Sorry, Professors, I don't mean to interrupt."

"Nonsense, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied. "Did you have something to add?"

"Yes, sir. Or, that is to say, I may. I've got something of a list of what Voldemort can do through the Mark, various properties it has displayed, and so on. Some of it's based on what we've witnessed happen to Professor Snape, but mostly I recorded what Harry's seen."

McGonagall beamed at her pupil proudly. "Well done, Miss Granger. If we can narrow down a list of effects, we can conduct a more direct search. You have this list with you?"

"No, professor, it's in some of my notebooks back in the tower. I can get it, though."

"We can set up a workspace of our own in the faculty lounge, then. It's near enough to the library. Yes, Miss Granger, I think you should fetch your books immediately."

Hermione put her quill down and rolled up the parchment she had been writing in. Harry could see she was angry about something. If she had been that mad at Ron or Harry, she would have already lit into them, so Harry assumed McGonagall was to blame, though he had no idea what the instructor had done. Hermione, it seemed, intended to make her feelings known, though she was keeping herself much calmer than she would have with her friends.

"Professor, I object to you using the faculty lounge for this. I am not normally permitted in there except for rare situations involving my duties as prefect. If this goes into the school year, people will know something is going on."

McGonagall graced the girl with a patient smile. "Miss Granger, while your wish to help is a noble one, it is best that you let us handle this now." Harry saw where that was coming from, and wondered if Hermione would, too. An outburst of hysterics would just prove McGonagall's belief that Hermione was too young to be of use.

"I see," Hermione said simply. "But with all due respect, Professor, if any member of the faculty had been researching this for weeks, none of you would dream of taking their notes and excluding them from the rest of the work." She stood up. "But if I were to refuse to give up the notes I have worked very hard to compile, it would only end up hurting Professor Snape and Harry, and who knows who else, so I'll go fetch my books." With a polite nod, she left the room.

"Well," McGonagall said, looking flustered.

"You know, Minerva, Miss Granger has proven adept at the kind of research we will be doing. Hasn't she, Harry?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes, sir." Harry smiled broadly, happy that Dumbledore was sticking up for his friend and giving him a chance to do the same.

"Of course she has, Albus," McGonagall replied. "But surely we cannot allow students to become further embroiled in this?"

Snape snorted and Harry laughed. McGonagall looked scandalized. "With all due respect," Harry said, using Hermione's words, "she knows just as much as I do about the Mark, now. And she's better at putting these things together, so she'd definitely be helpful. Plus, she's literally got entire books filled with notes and probably remembers every word, so things would be faster if she's helping. And as for her being embroiled . . . She decided to be my friend, and while that may be the most illogical thing she's ever done, Voldemort knows about it, and he's already planning on killing her for it. Plus, she made a few Death Eaters mad last Spring, didn't she? I'd say she's as embroiled as she's going to get."

"Harry!" McGonagall looked even more shocked. "I am appalled to hear you speak like that. Your friends are in mortal danger; you should take that seriously."

Harry paled at the accusation and had no words to respond. He felt suddenly ill. It was his fault his friends were in danger, after all. When had he become so callous as to disregard that?

"Minerva, a word?" Snape gestured to the door to the conference room, and Harry barely noticed the two professors exit the room.

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Severus was watching Harry while Minerva spoke, and it did not require Legilemency to see how her words affected the boy. His temper was at a boil, though he imagined that only Albus would have realized that. Certainly Minerva had no idea as she followed him out to the hall. With the door firmly closed behind them, he turned on his colleague and allowed his anger to show in the cold fire of his eyes.

"Potter is painfully aware of the danger his friends are in, I assure you," he began, his voice cold and even.

"Severus-"

"During our Occlumency lessons this summer, I have sifted through every emotion the boy is capable of, and there is nothing in this world that he fears more than to see his friends hurt because of him. If you are misled into thinking he does not take it seriously, that is only because he has succeeding in burying those fears into the deepest corners of his mind. If he did not bury them, he would probably find himself unable to rise out of bed in the morning or gather the strength to breath on his own. I did not know you had a cruel side, Minerva. It is unbecoming." Snape spun on his heel and returned to the office.

He did not turn around when he heard Minerva enter the room again, and her voice was shaking when she asked, "Where is Harry?"

"I sent him back to his room. It seems the memories of the Markings were a bit too much for him as he was growing upset," Dumbledore answered.

Snape smirked with satisfaction and silently praised the Headmaster for his consideration of the boy, as well as his tact. As sincere as her concern for her students was, Minerva often refused to consider that others may be just as concerned as she.

Granger came back into the room in a huff of petulance. "These are all my notes, Professors. I've organized them already, and it should be mostly self-explanatory." She turned to leave and was stopped by Dumbledore.

"Miss Granger, if you would, please wait a moment. I believe we will use one of the antechambers off the library for our work. If I recall, the one behind the tapestry of St. George and his pet dragon should do the job. Are we all agreed?"

McGonagall answered, "Of course, Headmaster. Miss Granger, we would never dream of preventing you from helping. Perhaps Professors Snape and Flitwick and myself should divide the notes and spend the evening seeing what we can make of this?"

Flitwick agreed, and Snape, for the first time in decades, allowed himself to consider for the briefest moment that freedom might be possible.

"And Miss Granger, when you see Mr. Potter, please inform him of our meeting place, and that, I . . . Please tell him that I spoke prematurely earlier."

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Harry left the Headmaster's office and wandered slowly down the stairs. With the castle practically empty, he heard Hermione's footsteps well before he saw her and ducked into an adjoining hallway before he was spotted. He was in no mood to talk at the moment. McGonagall's words had hurt, as much for what they meant as who was speaking them. Knowing that he was indulging in self-pity, he decided that a walk around the castle was better than returning to the tower right away. It was no surprise that he found himself in the dungeon almost immediately. With a sigh, he realized that not only did he have no idea how to get to Snape's rooms without his map, but it was also unlikely that the man would be returning to them soon.

Enjoying the silence of the dungeon, Harry found his way to the potions classroom and sat in his usual seat. After lighting a few candles, he thought back on what McGonagall had said and determined not to let it bother him. He knew what the instructor was like, and he knew that she was just trying to keep her students in as little danger as possible.

"Miss Granger has made her own decisions," Snape's voice interrupted his thoughts. The man should be forced to wear a bell. Or tap shoes. "As you have a habit of pointing out to me, everyone has their own decisions to make. No one can keep you from protecting your friends. And you cannot keep them from protecting you."

Harry nodded. "I know. I just didn't expect something like that from her."

"You can hardly hold that against her. She is the head of Gryffindor, after all, and cannot be expected to think before she speaks. I suspect she will apologize next time you see her."

Harry let out a soft chuckle. "You scared her, didn't you?" he asked.

"I did no such thing." Snape snorted.

"Then you made her feel guilty about it. Like you did with Remus the night of the museum robbery."

Snape raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction. "I merely pointed out the error in her assumption. Whether that led to guilty feelings on her part is hardly my fault or concern."

Another soft laugh. "Of course not, Professor."

"So, did you have a reason to be here in my classroom, or were you wallowing?"

It sounded like Snape was preparing to dismiss him, so Harry quickly came up with a reason to remain. The Potions Master had a way of cutting right through to what was bothering him without having to dredge up bad feelings and he was in the mood for some quiet company.

"Of course I had a reason," Harry insisted. "I wondered if you had a potion to remove scars." Snape raised an eyebrow at him again. "Not that scar. I know better. But I didn't feel like going to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey always makes me spend the night, no matter what the problem is." He raised his arm and pulled his sleeve away from his hand. "Think you can make this disappear? I'd rather not have to live with any more scars than I can avoid."

Snape took his hand and examined the pale writing carefully. "Who did this to you?" he asked sharply.

"Umbridge. She made me write out lines, and every time I did, it cut into my hand," Harry responded. Snape growled. "Can you heal the scar, then?" Harry asked.

"I can, yes. However . . ." The man frowned. "Harry, I am telling you this because I have promised not to keep information from you in the name of protecting you. History has shown that to cause more problems than it solves. What you do with this information is up to you, and I do not want you to mistake my willingness to divulge it as any kind of endorsement of action. Is that clear?"

Harry agreed, and Snape continued. "That was done with an enchanted quill, correct?" Harry nodded. "That spell, while not exactly Dark, is at the very best questionable. A contract written in blood is a powerful thing, and to force anyone to write anything at all in their own blood is grounds for suspicion. Additionally, regardless of the spell used, to create that effect as a form of punishment for a child is unconscionable. If I heal the scar, there will be very little evidence should you decide to tell anyone about it."

"Well, Umbridge has already been punished pretty well, I'd say," Harry said.

"Umbridge was placed in a position of authority here by someone else, Harry."

Harry caught on. "Fudge."

Snape nodded. "He removed Headmaster Dumbledore from Hogwarts and put a torturer in his place." He was, perhaps, overstating things, but Harry understood what he meant. He also knew that Fudge was still one of the greatest liabilities that the Light had.

"So what do you think we should do?" Harry asked.

"I have told you, Harry, it's your decision."

"Oh, I've made my decision, professor." Harry grinned. "I mean, what's the best way to go about making sure the right people hear about this?" Snape gazed coolly at Harry for a moment, then grabbed some floo powder and called to Dumbledore.

"Albus, how quickly can you have an auror here? Two would be best, actually. At least one of whom is not a member of the Order."

Dumbledore looked intrigued, but chose to trust the former spy. "I can arrange for Miss Tonks to be here immediately. I am sure she can bring along a colleague."

"Please do so, then. I am returning to your office with Mr. Potter."

When they arrived at the office, Tonks and a man Harry did not recognize were waiting with Dumbledore. Snape wasted no time explaining what had happened in the classroom. When he was finished speaking, the auror turned to Harry, but Dumbledore interrupted. "Perhaps it would be best if Mrs. Bones were called in. I believe this investigation is going to reach a level that will require her presence." Harry noticed that the good natured twinkle had disappeared from the Headmaster's eyes. If he had any second thoughts about continuing with this, Harry understood that it was too late. Dumbledore was out for blood. The Headmaster tossed some floo powder into the fireplace and was soon speaking with Amelia Bones.

"Good evening, Albus. I hope all is well," she said.

"Sadly, Amelia, all is not well. Not well at all. I need you to come here immediately."

"Of course. Should I ask Cornelius to come as well?"

"No, Amelia. Cornelius's time will be better spent with his solicitor."

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Dinner that night for Harry was a hurried affair between interviews. Once his story was told, Amelia Bones had announced that an investigation into Umbridge's tenure would commence immediately. Harry finally headed for the tower well after the sun had set. Back in the common room, he was greeted by a healthy and whole Luna Lovegood.

Harry fought off questions regarding his whereabouts, preferring to satisfy himself that Luna was indeed well. The group shared stories; Luna learned of the summer's lessons and adventures, and Luna shared her experiences in Norway and her abduction. She did not seem surprised to hear of Snape's heroics. Ron must have noticed, as he commented on it.

"He's always been nice to me," she explained. "He never let the Slytherins be too mean to me." Ron and Neville looked skeptical.

As Luna seemed to be feeling well and news of her father had been promising too–he had been released from St. Mungo's yesterday, treated for exposure and some minor injuries–Harry decided to fill everyone in on what had been going on in Dumbledore's office. Ron and Hermione already knew of the punishment, of course, and Neville, Ginny and Luna were horrified.

"You know, Harry," Luna said softly, "Fudge will never let the investigation continue. Even Amelia Bones has to answer to him."

"I have to do something, though," Harry insisted. "If people can see how many mistakes he's made, surely they'd want someone else in charge."

"Oh, I agree," Luna said. "But people won't find out this way." She smiled softly. "Maybe Hermione should call Rita Skeeter again."

Hermione grinned at the other girl. "Yes, maybe Skeeter can overhear something about the investigation. And maybe she'd be willing to send an article over to your father again."

Another idea struck Harry. He ran up to his room and found his map in his trunk. Snape was in his private quarters. With a quick explanation, Harry headed out to find his professor.

He had a good idea where the man's rooms were, but having never been there, he did not know exactly what he was looking for. The map showed Harry in the hallway, and indicated a wall between him and Snape. So there door must be somewhere close. But where? The boy tried knocking on some of the nearby paintings, hoping his legendary luck would hold. Finally, a bust, hidden in shadows, caught his attention. He noticed the eyes watching him and made his way over to the sculpture. He was not surprised to see the name 'Salazar Slytherin' engraved on the pedestal.

"Excuse me, sir," Harry said, feeling somewhat foolish to be intimidated by a torso. "I'm looking for Professor Snape's rooms. I don't suppose you can help me, can you?"

The statue eyed him suspiciously. "I am under the impression that the Slytherin prefects inform all members of my House how to contact him. How is it that you lack that knowledge?"

"Oh, well, you see, sir, I'm not in Slytherin House. Is the professor's door nearby?"

"It is. And if you had any legitimate business with him, you would already know that."

Harry considered how to continue. Salazar Slytherin did not seem to approve of his presence here. Certainly not since he had confessed to not being in Slytherin. _Time for a new approach, _he thought.

"I don't suppose you can open the door for me, can you sir? I assure you he won't object," Harry said, this time in Parseltongue, though he was not sure if the man's bust would have inherited the ability.

"Yes, I can open the door," the statue hissed back. "And if you can provide the password, either in a human language or in Parseltongue, I will do so."

_So much for that. _ Harry frowned and considered simply waiting to see if the man would leave his apartment soon.

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Snape was finally settling back into his rooms when the face of Salazar Slytherin pushed out from the stone wall. _It never fails. I finally get back to my home, and the interruptions never cease. _

"Severus," it said. "There is a boy here looking for you. He claims he is not a Slytherin, yet he speaks Parseltongue. I assume he is the one who killed my Basilisk."

"That would be Potter, yes. Ask him what he wants."

A stony eyebrow was raised at him. It was a look he had learned from the Founder and spent years perfecting. "I will do no such thing. I am not a messenger." The wall shimmered, leaving an archway to the hall. Harry, startled, peered through the hole and smiled. He hissed something at the bust in the hallway and gave a quick bow, then dashed into Snape's living room.

"Severus, if you intend to punish him for disturbing you, please do so in a room with my portrait so I may enjoy it." With that, the wall smoothed, leaving no trace of the archway or the face.

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Having heard Slytherin's words, Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, sir. If I'm disturbing you, I can come back later."

"No need. He let you in to spite me, but I would have opened the wall for you anyway. You came for the potion?"

"Oh, actually, I'd forgotten about that. Do you think it's okay for me to use it?"

"The scars have been seen by Bones and Dumbledore, as well as two aurors and myself. That should suffice. If you are eager to have the wound taken care of, I see no reason why it must wait."

"In that case, yes, I'd like the potion, thank you."

Snape nodded and left through one of the two doors leading further into the suite, giving Harry a moment to take in his surroundings. A fireplace in the back wall lent heat and light into the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, hardly a surprise to Harry. A table and four chairs occupied the corner farthest from the fire, and a couch and two leather wingback chairs stood facing it. Snape returned carrying a small jar and gestured to Harry to join him on the couch.

"This is a salve I made several years ago. It was one of my attempts to erase the Dark Mark from my arm. In addition to having superb healing qualities, it should negate any lingering magic on the wound. While it failed to aid me, I am confident that Umbridge is no match for my brewing skills."

Harry smile and agreed that any spell of hers would not last long against Snape's best work. "I need to rub it on my hand, then?" He asked.

"Yes, and it must be kept warm with a charm as you do so, as that will stimulate the healing properties." Snape watched Harry fumble with the jar, trying to keep his wand pointed at the top of his hand while simultaneously using a few free fingers to rub the salve in. As amusing as the scene was, Snape took pity on the boy. "Let me help. Keep the charm focused on the salve already on your hand." Snape snatched the jar and gathered a small amount of the thick substance. He held Harry's hand in his left as he worked the oils in with his right. As he did that, he asked, "So, then, what other reason did you have for coming here? Or was this merely a social call?"

"Oh, I thought maybe you'd like to give a quote for an article I have a feeling will be appearing in _The Quibbler _soon."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Harry, any direct interference in the investigation can land you in quite a bit of trouble. It is one thing to report an abuse to the authorities. It is another thing entirely to publicly spread accusations that go beyond Umbridge."

"That's why I'm not going to publicly do anything. Rita Skeeter's just going to write about what she overheard."

"How do you plan on making that happen? You cannot leave the castle, and she cannot enter it unless you invite her."

"Well, we'll tell her what she would have overheard." Harry grinned. "She's too afraid of Hermione to tell anyone that we'd staged it all. Plus, it'll look like she'd done some kind of investigation rather than just being handed a story, so she'll end up looking like a first-rate reporter, too."

"There is more to you and your friends than meets the eye, it seems."

Harry took that as a compliment and replied, "Luckily for us, there's more to Rita Skeeter than meets the eye, too. So, would you care to be overheard saying anything?"

"As a member of the school's faculty, of course it is my duty to protect the Minister's reputation," Snape said thoughtfully. "You would do well to remember, Mr. Potter, that no matter what ill-will you may bear for Cornelius Fudge, it would be wrong for you to assume he meant you any harm in sending Umbridge here. He may not be vicious. Perhaps he is simply incompetent."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "I will certainly try to remember that." Harry committed the phrase to memory. No doubt Rita would have fun with it.

"A bit more heat on this, I think," Snape said as he focused again on the boy's hand. Harry recast the charm with a bit more power and relaxed into the couch. The warmth spread from the back of his hand and along his wrist and fingers. Snape began working the salve in with both hands. His thumbs made small circles over his scars. As his grip shifted, the tips of his fingers glided around Harry's palm in something between a tickle and a caress. Harry shook his head and turned his attention to making sure his warming charm was working. After several minutes, Snape examined Harry's hand closely and declared the salve a success.

Harry beamed at his professor. "Thank you for that. For the potion, and for applying it." Snape gave a nod in his direction and closed the jar. "Maybe one day I'll be able to return the favor." Harry indicated the man's arm.

Snape looked at him in silence, seeming to consider Harry's words carefully. "That suddenly seems possible, yes."

Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Harry thanked Snape again and returned to his friends in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione took down both Snape's and Harry's remarks and attached them to the letter she had written to the reporter.

That night, Harry went to bed feeling strangely satisfied.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Again, thanks to everyone who thought enough of the story to review it. I generally don't reply to individual reviews, simply because I'd rather spend the time writing the story, but I do appreciate all reviews and all criticism. If anyone needs to say something to me that needs a reply, you can email me via the website using my pen name, Aethen, but I don't think anyone's got pressing business with me. Huge thanks to ShivaniBlue, my editor, who has been braving massive computer problems to read my stuff. Those of you who read my fics the day they're posted can probably spot chapters I uploaded before she got to them. Sometimes I'm too eager and upload before hearing from her. That's a mistake.

Love you all,

Aethen

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 17

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To no one's surprise, Rita Skeeter wasted no time and jumped on her assignment. She must have worked through the night, as Luna produced a copy of _The Quibbler_ at breakfast. Harry held the paper up for Snape to see.

"Interesting headline, isn't it, professor?" Snape glanced over at Harry, unimpressed. He held Harry's eye for a moment in a silent rebuke. Harry dropped the paper and Ron quickly picked it up.

"Fudge: Uncaring or Incompetent?" Ron read. "I think it's bloody brilliant."

Hermione nudged Ron and whispered something to him. With a sigh, he too lowered the paper. Despite the necessity of keeping their role in the article a secret, all the students were in the mood to celebrate. The article had called for an investigation into Fudge's administration. Skeeter had gone so far as to suggest that it was Fudge's steadfast refusal to even consider Voldemort's return that had allowed it to happen. Inside the paper was an in-depth account of all the evidence Fudge had dismissed as rumor. Attention was drawn to the fact that the investigation into Umbridge's time as Headmaster had revealed that both Harry and Dumbledore had warned of the Dark Lord's rising. Criticism stopped short of accusing Fudge of supporting Voldemort, but only just barely.

Breakfast was a high-spirited affair.

Dumbledore arrived late for breakfast for the second day in a row. "Good morning, all. Miss Lovegood, it is most excellent to you see you doing well."

"Thank you, Headmaster," she answered.

"It would appear that your. . ." Dumbledore paused and gazed at the students collected there. "Your father has stirred up a good deal of trouble."

"He does that, yes, sir." Luna smiled shyly.

"I will be absent for the rest of the day. I have been called to the Ministry."

"Headmaster," Harry spoke up. "Do you think people will take the story seriously?"

"I have been informed that _The Daily Prophet_ is picking up the story for the evening edition and will be calling for the Minister's resignation. He will certainly have much to answer for."

Assuming Fudge had few answers to give, Harry was satisfied for the time being. "I suppose he does."

After the meal, Snape asked Harry to stay in the Great Hall as the others left.

"With the term about to begin, I trust you are aware that our usual routine must end," Snape said. "The summer is over, after all. Back to reality, so to speak."

"Oh, yes, sir. I suppose I understand. With all the students around and everything. . ."

Snape tilted his head with a smirk. Finally, he let out a single low chuckle. "I believe you are mistaken, Harry. I was referring to your lessons. You are doing better than passable work in potions. If you take the time to revise what we did not get to, I think you will discover your understanding will continue to improve. I certainly expect significantly better work from you this term. Combat training will continue in some fashion, though with me or whomever Albus decides upon for Defense remains to be seen. Either way it will not be daily. As for Occlumency, I have taught you as much as I can. You have demonstrated as much control over your bond as I believe is possible. You certainly should be able to shield yourself from the intrusions of last year."

"You can still win through, though," Harry pointed out. "My shields eventually wear out."

"That is inevitable against any wizard of skill and power. Occlumency is no match for Legilemency, at least not in a pitched attack such as I have used against you. To be blunt, if you are restrained long enough to undergo the kind of prolonged mental attacks I staged, then Legilemency will likely not be used. Veritaserum or physical torture is more likely as it does not leave the interrogator as vulnerable. You can protect yourself from the Dark Lord, which is the most important result."

Harry nodded in understanding. The combat training was supposed to keep him from ending up in a situation where Veritaserum or torture could be used, so he was covering those bases as well.

Snape went on. "I assume you believed I meant that my treatment of you would change with start of classes. As for that, I have already explained to you that I will not tolerate you taking advantage of any relaxed relationship we may share. When school starts, you will treat me with the same respect as any other professor."

Harry nodded again. This was beginning to feel like a lecture. Snape considered Harry's tense posture and leaned back in his own chair. "Honestly, Harry, I do not expect many problems of that nature. You have been respectful to your other teachers, and I am confident that we have both relegated our past to where it belongs. This summer, you were only disrespectful a handful of times. As those times were precipitated by my own behavior, there should be no further problems between us. Do you agree?"

It seemed that Snape was offering some kind of apology. Or if not an apology, it was at least an offer to begin fresh, and Harry had no objection to that. "I do, sir. And I also understand why you were angry at me that day in the kitchen. You were right, I was showing off for my friends. I promise not to accuse you of acting mysterious and brooding in class."

"If you break that promise, be sure do so late in the year. There is little fun in deducting several hundred points from Gryffindor before you have had a chance to earn that many."

Harry grinned. "Do I have to pretend to still hate you, though? We were talking about this last night, actually. Luna's never really disliked you, and I won't get into how interesting I find that, but the rest of us have made it pretty clear. We figure there are reasons to keep everything a secret, and reasons not to."

"And those reasons are?" Snape steepled his fingers and gazed at Harry. The boy had the distinct feeling that Snape already knew both sides of the argument but wanted to see what the students had come up with.

"Well, the Dark Lord probably hasn't made what happened the other night common knowledge. He definitely wouldn't want other Death Eaters thinking that there's some way they can escape the Mark. That means they may not be looking for you, or if they are, they don't know why, and that can only make you safer. On the other hand, if we spread the word that you've been a spy for years, you've been discovered, and despite a rather painful attempt at punishment, still quite alive, that may help people see that Voldemort's not invincible. It also may bring other Death Eaters here looking to defect."

"That is the same conclusion I have arrived at. My inclination is to make some of my story known to the general public. At the very least, it should be leaked that a spy was discovered and saved. If we are seen to be getting along, there will be assumptions made that I am said spy, but I really don't care either way. I will speak to Albus. He may see another angle we have missed. And you realize, Harry, that if the students notice any changes, it will be you and your friends, not me, who are questioned about it."

"That's no problem. We can tell them whatever we want, really. The truth, or some of it at least, is probably okay. You tutored me in potions, we got to know each other better, and we stopped hating each other. None of us are going to talk about the combat training or the Occlumency lessons, obviously. All our really good stories from the summer involve me screaming and passing out at some point, and I don't think we want Voldemort knowing that was going on when he wasn't doing it to me on purpose."

"The stories about you passing out are the good ones?"

"Well, they're more interesting than the ones about Hagrid making breakfast."

"That depends upon how the story is rated. If danger is a major factor, then breakfast by Hagrid is fascinating."

"I suppose so. The Dark Lord, or Hagrid's homemade sausage. It's a toss up." Harry grinned foolishly, then grew serious as a thought struck him. "Professor, do you know if the Headmaster's going to the Ministry is a secret?"

"It common knowledge; his presence was officially requested by Amelia Bones. The Wizengamot will likely be meeting to discuss Umbridge. Why?"

"Well, the Dark Lord probably knows about it, right? It seems to me that he might try testing your Mark, then."

"The thought had occurred to me as well."

"And you were going to let me run off with everyone else and not say anything?" Harry raised an eyebrow at Snape in a poor imitation of the other man.

"That was exactly what I intended on doing. It is not your duty to hover about me waiting for my Mark to burn."

"I had no intentions of hovering, actually. Weren't there a few potions you wanted me to try out during the summer but were too dangerous? Can't I do that while you get ready for the start of term?"

"Very well, if you want to spend the day in the dungeons, who am I to object?"

"I'll just tell everyone where I'll be, and join you down there in a little bit, if that's okay," Harry said, and ran off to find his friends. He found them behind the tapestry in the library, exactly where he had expected them. Hermione already had a stack of books in front of her. The other five were seated in a corner.

"Hey, Harry," Neville called out. "What do you think of us teaching Luna what we learned this summer? I wouldn't know how to teach all the physical stuff, but she can probably learn the spells easily enough."

"I think it's a great idea, Neville. I can't do it today, but the rest of you can. I'm going to spend the day in the dungeons, I think. With Dumbledore gone, Voldemort will probably try something with his Mark."

"All day with Snape? Boy, Harry, you can't catch a break, can you?" Ron asked. "I thought you'd be free of him now that we're back at school."

"He isn't that bad, Ron," Harry said. The red-head looked scandalized. "Come on, really. You have to admit he wasn't nearly as mean this summer. Tough maybe, but he _was_ teaching us how to defend ourselves, after all. You can't be too nice when you do that, I suppose. No more insults, though."

"I suppose," Ron admitted grudgingly. "Do you want us to go down there with you? Ginny wanted help with a few of the spells we learned, so we can all get in some practice. It doesn't matter where. And Hermione's lost in her books, so she'd probably be happy to see us somewhere else." As Hermione did not even look up at the mention of her name, Harry had the feeling she would not notice if they stayed or left. He was comforted knowing she was on the problem so enthusiastically. He considered Ron's offer, and appreciated that his friend was willing to spend the day in enemy territory just to keep him company.

"Better not, Ron. It's bad enough he'll have to put up with me. If we all showed up, he might decide he'd rather risk Voldemort." Luna giggled, and Harry made for the dungeon.

The rest of the morning passed much as the summer had. Harry worked on a few potions with little trouble, only pausing now and then to ask Snape a question when the textbook's information was unsatisfactory. He had lost track of time when his stomach reminded him that breakfast had been a long time ago. Shortly after, Snape returned from his office followed by a House Elf. Snape gestured to his desk, and the Elf snapped its fingers, causing several platters and two place settings to appear. Harry's eyes grew wide. "You didn't hear my stomach from in your office, did you?"

With a chuckle, Snape replied, "No, my hearing is not quite so acute. After so many years of teaching, however, I am well acquainted with the needs of sixteen-year-old boys' bodies." Snape's tone did not bear even a hint of irony, but Harry found himself blushing at the remark nonetheless. When the Potions Master noticed his reaction, he merely rolled his eyes and sat down.

Harry pulled a chair over to the other side of the desk and surveyed the meal. Noticing that the only drink available was tea, he said, "You forgot the cream, professor. And you're usually so thorough."

"Cream? Typical. I should have expected you would wish to destroy the tea. I will have a House Elf bring some."

"Mocking how I take my tea, professor? Isn't that stretching things a bit?"

"Oh, I think not. I have insulted you for far less."

An Elf brought the cream and the two ate in a comfortable silence until Harry looked up to see Snape nearly dropping his fork in his lap. The man quickly put his utensils down and rested his arms on the table. He was about to ask if something was wrong when he noticed the man's arm was not resting on the table, but pressing against it. _The Mark,_ he thought, then reached over to take his instructor's wrist. Snape allowed his arm to be pulled across the desk as Harry took a deep breath, then slid his hand up the older man's sleeve.

The pain was worse this time. Harry assumed Voldemort had been building it up slowly as a test. He did not suffer long, though, as the pain disappeared within moments of him making contact. Snape pulled his arm out of Harry's grasp and the young man once again sat in his own body.

Harry found himself annoyed. "Were you planning on telling me the Mark was burning? The worse it gets, the more both of us end up in pain, you know."

"As a matter of fact," Snape said calmly, "I was not going to tell you. For all I knew, he was calling a meeting and I was simply caught up in it. And even so, while I will not refuse your help, I will absolutely not ask you for it."

"Are you really that stubborn? Too proud to admit you're in pain?" Harry grew even more frustrated. How could he help the man if he refused to let him know when he was under an attack?

"If you wish to call it stubborn pride, you may do so." The Potions Master finished his tea, then stood and returned to his office. Harry remained at the desk, staring at his tea as if to heat it up by force of will. Finally, his tea gone cold, he stood and stepped into the doorway of Snape's office.

He watched the man work for several minutes. Snape did not look up. "You can say it if you'd like," Harry eventually offered.

"What exactly do you think I would like to say?"

"That I have some nerve getting mad at someone for not asking for help. The irony is not lost on me." Snape looked up and studied his student, but said nothing. Harry held his gaze, then continued. "It's just a little more pain for me, professor. I get a lot more than that leaking through my scar when he's really mad. You know that. It can lead to much worse, though. So doesn't it make sense for you to mention it as soon as the Mark starts up?"

"Listen to yourself, Harry. You're arguing that your life is so full of pain, I shouldn't worry about adding a little more. Whereas I see that as all the more reason to save you from what little I can."

"And if he kills you because I wasn't fast enough to stop him? How much pain do you think I'll be in then." Harry crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "If you don't let me help you, I'll blame myself for your death, just to spite you."

"It has passed, Harry. He will not try again, I imagine. You can join your friends in the library."

That was a dismissal, but Harry persisted. "And if he does try again today? Or tomorrow? Or whenever? Will you tell me?"

"We will have to wait and see, won't we?" Snape's voice had an edge to it, but Harry did not back down and did not leave the doorway. He held his ground as the man glared at him. Snape shuffled the papers in front of him and said, "I will be no more accustomed to asking for help tomorrow than I am today. We will have to wait and see."

Unsatisfied, but knowing that was the best answer Snape could give, Harry asked, "Can I stay in the classroom? I still have a few more potions I want to try."

"That is up to you. Just be sure to mind the time and clean up before dinner."

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And so, the last days of summer drifted by. Some progress had been made in tracking down the unknown spells used in the Markings, but Flitwick still worried that something was missing. Unless one of the as-yet unrecognized incantations proved to be extraordinarily powerful or complex, there was no way to account for the way the spells behaved as a single unit. And until that mystery was solved, any attempt to unravel the spells they knew of could be more disastrous than leaving Snape Marked. So, work continued, and Harry found his days spent either battling with his friends or being frustrated in the library. He, and everyone else, still held hope. Harry was keeping the Dark Lord at bay, and the faculty was so busy preparing for the beginning of term that they had little time to spare. The good news was that once things calmed down, even more effort could be expended.

Outside of Hogwarts, Fudge was coming under attack from all sides. After Umbridge's trial, more and more Ministry officials had come forward to the press, bringing tales of poor judgement, stubborn denials of Voldemort's rising, and gross mismanagement of many departments. The _Daily Prophet_ was reminding everyone of the countless empty assurances Fudge had given the Wizarding world, while managing to ignore its own role in lulling the populace into a false sense of peace. Fudge had taken a leave of absence and Amelia Bones was named Acting Minister. Few expected him to resume his duties.

Bones's first act as Minister was to formally declare martial law in all Wizard communities. As such, on the first day of school, a team of Aurors headed by Shacklebolt descended upon Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and rode the Hogwarts Express as a precautionary measure. A dozen of the Wizards hovered on brooms over the First Years in their boats and followed the Thestrals up to the gate. Harry and the others stood on the steps to the castle, waiting for friends and enemies alike. Shacklebolt had chosen the same spot to oversee the procession, and he and Harry chatted amiably about inconsequentials as their eyes scanned the approaching students for signs of threats. Harry, though, had a single threat in mind, and soon spotted the fair hair and face he was expecting.

"Hello, Malfoy, have a good summer?" Harry's cold tone belied the friendly words. For his part, Malfoy stopped on his way up the stairs, gave Harry a cool stare, and continued up to the castle. On the other side of the steps, Hermione nodded at Harry, who tilted his head in acknowledgment. Now he just needed to get Malfoy to react. "Go anywhere. . . interesting. . . during the holidays, did you?" Harry called after the boy. _That got is attention._

"And what is that supposed to mean, Potter?" Draco drawled. Harry smirked; the boy had to be worried about what Harry knew.

"Oh, I just thought you'd been to Azkaban for a family reunion. I hope your father got his own room. It's getting rather crowded in there, I hear. But at least everyone knows their neighbors. Amazing how many Malfoy family friends are being sent off these days, isn't it?"

Malfoy glared, but kept his temper in check. Harry worried he was going to have to work harder at this. The other boy, however, lashed out verbally, "At least my family has friends, Potter. Dead parents don't socialize much, do they?"

"Don't you dare speak of my parents!" Harry snarled and threw himself at Malfoy. He caught him unprepared, and rather than fight, Draco chose to turn and flee. He almost got away, but Harry managed to catch his sleeve. The satisfying shriek of torn fabric left Malfoy's arm bare. Harry grabbed the boy's wrist before he could hide his forearm. Everything had happened so quickly, Shacklebolt hadn't even had time to call to Harry to stop his attack. The Auror stormed over to the pair.

Harry mercilessly yanked Malfoy's arm straight, displaying the Mark to Shacklebolt, who immediately bound the young Death Eater in magical ropes. Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's trusted guards, had taken a step forward to help him, but the moment his arm was exposed, they had stopped advancing and were trying to fade back into the growing crowd. Shacklebolt took control of the situation.

"Professors, I must ask you to divide your students into houses immediately. No one will be entering the school for the time being." He turned to his team of Aurors, several of whom Harry recognized, and ordered, "Split up with the professors and check every last student for the Mark. I don't care what the Board of Governors has said about searches. We have proof of at least one Death Eater here, and this is now out of their jurisdiction."

Satisfied, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his robes, displaying his arms in what was purely a formality, and said to Shacklebolt, "I can watch Malfoy if you'd like, sir. I'm sure he's not going anywhere with your spell on him."

"Yes, thank you, Harry." He gestured for Ron and Hermione to join them. The two displayed their arms without being asked. "Will you two stay here with Harry, just in case?" The two agreed, naturally, and Shacklebolt strode off to see that his orders were being followed.

"Nice spell, Hermione." Harry showed her the sleeve he was holding. "The stitches look like they were cut with scissors. You should take up dressmaking."

"Why thank you, Harry. It's a simple enough spell to cast. It weakens the threads. It's a bit difficult to focus it on a moving target, though, and to only have it affect the seam instead of the fabric of the sleeve. That's the trick, you see. If I hit the whole sleeve, you'd just have torn off the bit at the end, and his forearm would still be covered." Hermione was feeling very pleased with herself, and Harry was enjoying it. She took the cloth from Harry.

"Do you mind if I keep this, Malfoy? I'm sure you understand. It's so difficult for us mudbloods to cast anything right, I'd like a keepsake." She smiled sweetly at their captive, who was glaring at her. Harry nearly took a step back in shock. He had never seen that kind of malevolence in Draco.

Ron was not so put off, however, and said, "That is true, Hermione. But it makes you wonder why a mudblood like you always manages to outdo a pureblood like Malfoy here?"

"It's not nice to say such things, Ron!" Hermione said, feigning shock. "Even purebloods like the Malfoys produce the occasional Squib, but you shouldn't talk about things like that in front of them. You really should know better." With a final satisfied smile at Malfoy, Hermione turned her back on the boy and watched the professors check the remaining students.

When it came time to search Crabbe and Goyle, they made it nearly three steps toward Hogsmead before Aurors stunned them. Of course, Shacklebolt had known of the Markings as soon as Harry had seen them, so the Aurors knew exactly who to worry about. Parkinson, and later, Summers, succumbed to hysterics when they were approached. Nott looked to be making some attempt at dignity while the Ravenclaws simply looked resigned. No doubt they had given great thought to their homecoming and believed themselves safe.

Harry, Ron and Hermione, and eventually, Ginny, Neville and Luna, were gathered around the seven young Death Eaters while the last of the students were checked. To Harry's relief, it seemed there had been no more Markings since the one he had witnessed. Finally, Draco spoke, startling Harry. His voice was emotionless when he asked, "How did you know?"

Harry had been prepared for the question as soon as he had mentioned the sleeve to Hermione. "I'm not stupid, Malfoy. You may have underestimated my intelligence, but I wouldn't expect anything less from someone who'd follow that monster. Of course you were going to take the Mark. It was worth risking a detention to make sure, though."

He had not planned on saying anything more, but found himself staring at the seven. "I'm sure you all hate me. Some of you may even hate me for something other than being The-Boy-Who-Lived. Anyway, I know you probably don't care what I have to say, but I'm saying it anyway. If you want to get out, we can help you. Dumbledore can keep Voldemort from hurting you through the Mark. You just need to ask him, and he'll say yes. You know he will. And I don't know if you're allowed to read where you're going, but if you are, look up Tom Marvolo Riddle. It's an anagram, actually. You can ask your father about him, too, Malfoy, but I don't know if he'll tell you the truth. It's not hard to figure out, though. Check out his family tree, then take a look at when he disappears from all records."

"What are you getting at, Potter?" Malfoy asked, still masking all emotion.

"I just think you all should know who you're going to prison for. And who you're all so willing to die for."

Shacklebolt interrupted, but Harry had said what he wanted to, so they all watched in silence as he and the other Aurors surrounded the students and Apparated them off to trial and the surety of prison.

With a sigh, Harry turned and followed the rest of the school into the Great Hall. A battle had been won. Seven Death Eaters were off to Azkaban. The oldest of them was seventeen. Harry sighed again.

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After dinner, Snape caught Harry's eye as the students shuffled out of the Hall. The Potions Master pulled him into a shadowed corner and said, "Harry, I was going to tell you that I will be in my classroom preparing for class tomorrow if you cared to help. I can see that what happened today affected you, and as such, I will refrain from lecturing you about the foolishness of it as well as praising you for the cunningness. I think you do not need or want to hear either. At any rate, having observed the Slytherin table tonight, I think it best if you do not spend time in the dungeons alone. Indeed, it would be best if you avoid being alone outside of your common room. Those seven were not the only students loyal to the Dark Lord, as you know."

"I understand, professor. And thank you for the offer, even if it can't be made. I would have taken you up on it, I think. But I should be in Gryffindor Tower tonight, I suppose. I want to ask everyone not to gloat about what happened. I don't think my friends will, but I'm sure people noticed that Gryffindor was the only house with a full table tonight. Nothing good will come from trying to shove that in the other houses' faces. I'll try to get my house to see that."

"I am happy to hear you say that, Harry."

Harry blushed at the praise, and tried to cover his embarrassment with a joke. "Plus, it's tradition that the First Years get to kiss the hem of Harry Potter's robe on the first night of school. And Ron says it's not fair if I'm not around and they have to find an old robe from my trunk. They feel left down if I'm not wearing it when they're genuflecting."

Snape's lip curled in that subtle display of amusement Harry had been expecting and said, "Go."


	18. Chapter 18

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 18

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Back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry discovered his intuition was right. He stepped into the common room to hear one of the Fourth Years talking loudly to a group of Firsts.

"Of course it was Harry Potter who caught Malfoy. Did you see that one of them was a Hufflepuff? You guys are lucky you're Gryffindors. None of _us_ would ever join You-Know-Who."

"That's enough," Harry stepped over to the group. "Everyone says that Slytherins are the dark wizards. And maybe they have more than their share. But bragging that Gryffindors don't get Marked is stupid and wrong. I know for a fact that at least one of us followed him in the last war." Everyone looked shocked at that revelation, but no one was going to argue with him. "I'm not saying I think someone here would ever do that, but it's not as simple as what house you're in. I'm not a prefect, and I can't make any rules, but I don't want to hear about anyone in this House bragging about what happened. We lost seven students today, and that's nothing to be happy about."

Across the room, Ron stood up and said, "Well, Harry, I _am_ a prefect, and I can make a rule like that. But I won't. Anyone who needs to try to make the other houses feel bad about what happened in order to make themselves feel good doesn't belong in Gryffindor at all. That's not what we do."

Harry was impressed at his friend's strategy. Rules are broken, but he'd made it a matter of House pride now. He suspected there would be no need to discuss it further.

"You said that better than I could have, Ron," Harry said. "Thanks for backing me up."

"Any time, mate. I hadn't thought about it, but you're right. If we go around acting like we're above everyone else, it's just going to make problems."

"Yeah. I can't say I'm sorry to see them getting what they deserve, but I still feel bad that it had to happen. I'm sure they all had friends here. We shouldn't be gloating while everyone else is missing their house-mates."

Ron nodded. "Still," the redhead said. "It was fun listening to Hermione talk to Malfoy."

Harry chuckled. "He really had that coming, didn't he? Speaking of Hermione, where is she?" Harry could see the First Year girls in the common room, so she was not showing them the dorms.

"She ran off. Said she had to meet someone. I saw her talking to a boy from Hufflepuff before. I think she was meeting him for something."

"And you're okay with that?" Harry asked, grinning broadly.

"Sure, why not?" Ron grew worried. "Hey, you don't think she's in danger, do you? Someone getting revenge for getting their friend arrested?"

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant. I'm sure she's fine. She can take care of herself. And no one really knows she was involved with the whole thing."

Ron agreed, and said, "Speaking of that, Harry, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone in the halls any more. You said yourself that anyone could be angry about what happened. Not to mention that there are probably other supporters of You-Know-Who in the school."

"You're starting to think just like Professor Snape, you know. He said the same thing to me just before I came here."

"Normally, that would be a very disturbing thought. But I'm not going to think too much about it. I'm just going to be happy he agrees, so he can give you detention if you don't listen. I'd feel bad having to dock you points, you know. They're my points too."

Harry laughed. As much as he understood Snape's concerns, he had not liked the idea of bringing up the problem with his friends. There seemed something snobbish about asking friends to follow him around. They would do it, of course, but he hated asking.

He spent the rest of the evening in the common room getting to know the new additions. Experience had taught him that the sooner they realized he was a normal person, the sooner they'd stop treating him with fear or awe. Hermione arrived not long after Harry had asked about her. He could tell she wanted to talk to him, but was waiting for him to be free. By the grin she was wearing, he assumed it was good news.

His curiosity was finally satisfied when Hermione pulled him over to a quiet corner. "Well, Harry," she said. "I had a very interesting talk with someone a little bit ago."

"I figured that," Harry replied. "What's going on? You weren't asked out, were you?"

Hermione covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. "No, no, that's not it at all. It's very funny you said that, though. No, someone asked me for a favor. It seems he wants to start a club for. . ." She looked around for anyone listening. "Well, for people like you, if you know what I mean. It's for boys and girls, so they can talk and get support I guess."

Now it was Harry's turn to stifle a laugh. "He didn't think you were. . ."

"No. At least, I don't think he did. He just wanted to know if I could make a sign-up sheet like we did for the DA. He said he might want coins too, but he has no idea how many people would be interested. For now, the parchment will just be a way to keep out people who only want to make trouble."

"Who is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione frowned. "Well, I promised not to tell anyone. Obviously I'm not worried about you telling people, Harry, but-"

"It's okay, Hermione. I made the same promise to the person I told before you, remember? It's not your secret to tell. I understand."

"I did tell him that I know someone who might be interested. I hope you don't mind, Harry. I just wanted to make sure I was allowed to even mention it to people. Of course, I didn't give any names. Hey, you don't think the person who asked me is the person you were talking to, do you?"

Harry laughed. "No, I think it's safe to say that the person I know isn't starting any clubs."

"Well, if you're interested, let me know and I'll see about getting you to sign the parchment."

"I'll think about it," Harry replied.

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The following day at breakfast, a new addition sat at the head table beside McGonagall. Harry was surprised to see Hestia Jones with the faculty, but gave her a cheerful wave when he caught her eye. Harry and the rest of Gryffindor assumed, along with the rest of the school, that she would be the new Defense instructor. Once it seemed most students had made it into the Great Hall, the Headmaster stood and raised a hand, calling for silence.

"Good morning, students. I trust everyone is recovering from the shock of yesterday's surprise. I will remind you all that, should you require someone to speak to about the unfortunate loss, I and your Heads of House are always available." A fresh silence fell on the students. "However, I spoke enough of that yesterday. Today, I am pleased to announce some good news in the form of our new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Jones." The woman nodded amiably but did not stand when Dumbledore turned towards her. "Professor Jones is a recently retired Auror, and will certainly prove a most excellent addition to Hogwarts. Please welcome her."

Polite applause greeted the announcement, though cheering came from the group of Gryffindors who knew her to be more than an Auror and were grateful to again have a trustworthy, competent teacher. Ginny absolutely beamed. Jones, while not quite young enough to be an older sister, was still young enough to fill the role of a favored aunt.

"I'm so glad she's here," Ginny said, keeping her voice low so only the close-knit group of friends would hear. "Until Hermione got to the house, she was just about the only person I had to talk to. She was too young to fight in the first war, but her parents did. Her mother was killed by You-Know-Who himself in the middle of the war. Her father died last winter. I'm not sure how, but I think it was something natural. She's been an Auror since she left Hogwarts, and I don't think she has any family left. She had a boyfriend, I _think_, who was killed by Death Eaters not too long ago."

Ron blinked at her. "Wow, Sis, you could teach Hermione a thing or two about research." Ginny giggled; Hermione elbowed the boy.

"Well, we talked a lot in the beginning of the summer. Sometimes she'd almost say something. Mostly if I was talking about Dean. I'd say something, and she'd laugh, or agree, then start to tell a story and just stop. I guess she didn't want to talk about it, so I never asked. Anyway, things were kind of quiet until the night Harry showed up, after all, and I think she was bored, and maybe a little lonely, like me. Then, of course, everyone got so busy we never really saw anyone but Professor Snape and sometimes Remus. And no one would tell us anything about where anyone was. I'm glad she's okay."

"I think it's great she's here," Harry said. "We've only ever had one good Defense instructor. And it'd take an Auror to last more than a year."

"That won't be a problem for her," Ginny replied, her respect evident. "She told me magical defense is her specialty. Whenever a group of really nasty wizards were holed up somewhere, they'd send her in as bait. Nothing can get through her shields. So the other Aurors would take down the attackers while they were trying to hex her."

"Sounds brilliant," Neville said. "Too bad she wasn't around this summer when we were learning stuff like that."

"Plus, the more teachers, the less lessons with Snape, eh?" Ron asked. Neville nodded vigorously.

As appetites dwindled and students began making their way from the Hall, Luna found her way to the table and joined the group. Neville explained how they knew Hestia Jones; the quiet girl only replied with one of her disconcerting smiles. Once the room was nearly empty, Ginny said she wanted to greet the new professor.

"We'll go with you," Harry said. "She was one of the wizards who got me last year from the Dursleys. Least I can do is welcome her here." Harry and Ginny stood and were naturally followed by the rest.

With only a few professors within earshot, Ginny nearly squealed, "I'm so glad to see you. I've been worried about you. No one would tell us anything about where anyone went. I was sure you were okay, of course. Who can hurt you, right? But still. . ."

Hestia smiled at the girl and took her hand. "It's good to see you too, Ginny. And the rest of you too, of course."

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Jones," Harry said. Everyone else echoed him.

"I'm glad you came to see me now, Ginny. This summer was not quite my best. I've been at St. Mungo's for the past four weeks." Ginny stifled a gasp. "You'd find out, of course, in class, but I think it's best that you know now."

Professor Snape stood and came to Jones's side. He whispered something in her ear, and she looked up at him with a faint smile. "Yes, please. Thank you, Severus." With a nod, Snape offered her his arm. She grasped it, and her struggle to stand was not lost on anyone gathered. Snape pulled the chair out of her way as she straightened up slowly. A wide belt on the outside of her robes looked distinctly out of place until she tapped the buckle with her wand. She rose slightly, so her toes were just barely off the ground.

The look she gave Ginny was almost apologetic. "Seems my shields were not quite as good as I had hoped."

"Oh, Hestia!" Ginny gingerly stepped forward and pulled the woman into a hug. "What happened? Does it hurt?"

"No, Ginny, I'm in no pain. I can't feel anything at all below my waist, actually. The spell used was Dark magic, and the damage cannot be undone. As for what happened, the details don't matter. Let's just say I faced one Death Eater too many this time. I was due, right?" Though she tried to mask it with a lighthearted joke, Harry could hear her voice waver. The few students remaining were watching the scene with interest, and though they could not hear, they would certainly be wondering why a student was hugging the new professor. It was not lost on Snape, naturally, who placed a hand on Jones's arm.

"Professor, perhaps I should show you to your classroom. I am told you arrived last night and have not had an opportunity to tour the castle." Ginny pulled back and wiped her tears on her sleeve.

"Thank you, but that is not necessary. I was a student here, of course, and it hasn't been that long." Another nod from the Potions Master and the two instructors exited the hall. The effect, on Harry at least, was eerie to watch. Hestia Jones's belt must have been charmed with a levitation spell, and she floated to the door. Snape had a way of gliding about with his long, swift strides hidden by his robes, making it seem as if he wore the same belt.

It was Luna who turned to Ginny first to comfort her. "She could have suffered much worse. She doesn't feel any pain, right? And she can still go wherever she wants."

"I suppose." Ginny sniffled.

"We've got Charms together next," Luna said to the group. She put her arm through Ginny's. "She'll be okay."

As the Sixth Year Gryffindors made their way to their class, Harry sighed. "You know, I was wondering why she was here teaching and not out. . . You know. . ." Everyone trudged along in silence, not wanting to say anything out loud. "I think I'd rather have Lockhart, or even Umbridge back, then get a good teacher that way." Still, no one else spoke. No one had to.

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By the end of the week, Professor Jones's presence was causing quite a stir. In the classroom she was dynamic and engaging. Years as an Auror had given her a story for any occasion as well as an appreciation for unusual or innovative ways to handle Dark magic. She was strict and had very high standards, but she held everyone to them equally, and no one was sure what house she had come from as she seemed to hold no preference. Speculation abounded, of course, but most theories were simply attempts by members of each House to claim the Professor as their own. Even some Slytherins could be heard insisting she was far too cunning to have worn anything but silver and green as a student.

Many of the boys, and statistically, Harry thought, some of the girls, were developing crushes despite her handicap which she made no attempt to hide. She was certainly pretty enough. And along those lines came rumors that sent Harry into private bursts of laughing every now and then. "Snape's in love," was whispered in the hallways and many a student had been on the end of one of his withering stares for so much as daring a knowing look at the Potions Master. It was no wonder, though, Harry thought–only natural that students would jump to conclusions. After all, whenever Professor Jones seemed to need any kind of help at all, Professor Snape appeared at her side. Every meal, though he sat several places down the table from her, Snape pushed in her chair as she sat and offered his arm in aid when she rose. Lavender had proclaimed it "Simply charming," and Harry completely agreed.

With the rumor mill in full grind, Harry hung back one afternoon after Potions, the last class of the day, to have a bit of fun with his Professor. The room had cleared, leaving Harry alone with Snape for the first time since school started.

Harry made sure the door was closed before saying, "If you aren't careful, Professor, you're going to have half the boys at Hogwarts looking to hunt you down."

Snape looked up from his desk coolly. "Only half? You are dismally under-appreciative of my abilities to be a bastard."

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it? If you were being a bastard, you wouldn't be showering Professor Jones with such devotion and affection." Harry grinned and sprawled lazily in one of the front desks.

"Ah, I see. And has Professor Jones so quickly captured the hearts of so many hormone-laden children?"

"Sure has. I personally don't see it. I mean, she's nice and all . . ."

"Not your type, is she?" Snape played along.

"Not quite, but everyone sure thinks she's yours. Speaking of that, though, Hermione found out there's a group of . . ." Harry decided discretion was a virtue in a classroom, even with the door closed. Anyone could still walk in. "Well, students like me. She made them a sign up sheet like she did for the DA."

Snape nodded and observed, "How nice such students still need to be paranoid. Have you joined this group?" Before he could answer, Harry was interrupted by Snape's raised hand. "First, consider if there is anything going on that I will be happier not knowing about. I am a teacher, remember."

Harry blushed. "It's nothing like that! Just a few kids sitting around talking. Mostly about dumb stuff, like who everyone thinks is cute."

"Does this mean you will find yourself a mate rather than making a habit of interrupting my afternoons?"

Harry wrinkled his nose in thought. "I hadn't really thought about it, to be honest. Well, I did before I signed up, but not really since. I don't think so. There's no one there I'm interested in. I'm not even sure I'll keep going, honestly. Everything they talk about seems so . . . I don't know. Silly, I guess. If I have to hear about what someone wore to Hogsmeade weekend last year again, I'll be in your office looking for something to make my head explode. It's nice to know there are more students out there like me, but they never want to talk about anything serious."

"First, the potion you'd want is found in my office on the third shelf, fourth from the left, in the green glass bottle. Help yourself. As for talking about something serious, it's been my experience that attempting to have a serious conversation with anyone under the age of twenty-four is pointless. You should not be so serious yourself, for that matter. You are, after all, sixteen. And trivialities are expected to be the focus of your existence."

Harry simply snorted at that.

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A week later, Harry found himself back in the potions classroom having almost the same conversation, this time with Hermione. Everyone else's potion had turned into a clay-like substance twenty minutes into brewing, and only Harry and Hermione had any liquid to continue working with. The potion now done successfully, Snape trusted them enough to retreat to his office as they cleaned up.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I do appreciate you telling me about it. I'm glad I went and all, but it's just so . . . inane."

Hermione stared at him. "You've been spending far too much time with Professor Snape if you're using words like 'inane'."

Harry laughed a little and said, "They're just way too childish, I guess. Aside from us all being gay, I just have nothing in common with them. I'm spending my time worrying if Remus will make it back from his next mission, or if Voldemort has figured out a way to break into my head again, and they're making stupid jokes about their wands and different kinds of vegetables."

"I guess I can understand that," Hermione replied. She let out a little sigh as they gathered their books.

"It's not your fault, you know. And I am glad you told me about it."

"Oh, I was just hoping you'd find someone. I was thinking about how hard it must be to meet people."

Harry simply shrugged. "Well, I thought the same thing at first, but none of them are really what I'm looking for."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Beats me. Not fireworks and violins like in a movie. I just want someone who cares how I take my tea, you know? Someone I can lean against while we both read. He'll interrupt every now and then to point out something I'm completely uninterested in, and I'll pretend to be mad because I'm trying to read my own book. But we'll both know I don't mind." Harry rested his chin in his hand and stared into space. "I want someone who keeps, oh, I don't know, a tin of biscuits in the cupboard, even though he hates biscuits, because he knows I like them. My whole life's been so complicated. I want something simple."

Hermione leaned forward and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek. "That's very sweet Harry, and I think I understand what you mean, even though personally, I expect both fireworks and violins." Harry smiled at his friend. "Plus, you don't like biscuits. But maybe you'll keep a tin in your flat for him."

"Hmm," Harry considered the idea. "I suppose that works, too."

As the two got up to leave, Snape reappeared from his office. "Have you two finished cleaning up? Good. Can you stay a little longer, Harry? There is something I need to discuss with you." Snape gazed at Hermione for a few moments before saying, "You may stay as well, Miss Granger." They both nodded and sat down.

"Information has come my way. This is information that Dumbledore also possesses, though as yet, he does not know I have it as well. As such, he has not yet asked me to keep it from you. Are we clear?"

Harry understood the implication. When Dumbledore did talk to Snape, he'd be ordering that Harry be kept ignorant. Dumbledore had nearly promised not to do that, but Harry trusted Snape's opinion.

"Furthermore, I need you to promise me that you will not overreact, and you will absolutely refrain from purposely digging for information. Your source, while well placed, is far too dangerous. Do you understand?"

"I'll stay right here, I promise." Harry tapped his head, aware that while someone may be listening in, it was far less likely they could see him. Snape nodded, satisfied.

"Lupin has gone missing. He was safe two days ago, but after that, there are no clues." Harry grew pale, and the only thing keeping him from running from the room was the knowledge that the only person with answers was standing before him. "Now, before you assume anything, Harry, remember that Lupin has been doing this for a very long time. Even before the Dark Lord's rise–since he graduated, really–he has been on the run simply because of what he is. He knows how to sense danger and he knows how to disappear. That we have no trace whatsoever is, in my opinion, a good sign. It is unlikely that an abduction would be covered as well as Lupin can hide his own tracks. And he has enough Wolfsbane for the coming full moon, which may work to his advantage." Harry calmed a little. Remus was probably in danger, but he may still be safe. And Snape was right about the full moon. A sentient, logical werewolf was far better off in a dangerous area than even a wizard.

"I am telling you this for a reason, Harry. If the worst has happened, as I believe it has not, then he will certainly be taken before the Dark Lord. Until we know something for sure, I want you to be extra careful with your Occlumency. If emotion plays a part on both sides, then Lupin's capture will be cause for great joy on the other end. I am trusting your word that you have not been attempting to spy, though your trick at breakfast before the term started was not lost on me." Harry squirmed, as he had not realized the man had caught on to Harry's swift dip into Voldemort's mind the day after Luna's rescue. "In any case, the next few days may present the opportunity to witness something you surely want never to see."

Harry swallowed hard. "Thank you, Professor. For the record, except for that one time, I haven't tried any, uh, tricks. I wasn't planning on it either, but I'll make sure my shields can hold up against anything."

Satisfied, Snape looked to Hermione and said, "As for you, Miss Granger, I understand you have some questions for me pertaining to your research project." The girl looked up sharply.

"Yes, sir, but . . ." She frowned.

Snape stood and beckoned them to follow.

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Severus led his two students out of the potions classroom and down the hall to his own rooms. Being seen with Potter and Granger was no longer a threat to him–he could be in no greater danger at this point–but there was still a need for secrecy. He stood facing the wall and gave Salazar's bust an expectant glare. The piece of rock made a decent doorkeeper usually, but now and then decided to make a point of showing that its duties were by choice and not by command. Not a stone eyelash fluttered as the wall eventually disappeared into his arch. He trusted the statue felt its point had been made.

Snape waved the two in and followed. Granger looked around curiously as Harry sat down on the couch. It was another display of familiarity, but the boy had been in his rooms once before. The setting was private enough to ignore that he did not wait for an invitation to sit.

The Potions Master settled into a chair and nodded for the girl to join Harry on the couch. "Minerva tells me you have questions about the Mark. She seems to believe that you are in the best position to uncover holes in your own notes." He had never actually sat down and discussed the workings of the bond with anyone. Albus had some idea of what it did, but only through years of observation and a good deal of passive study of the Mark. Severus was in no mood to talk about it now, but he was forced to admit that the odds of discovering how to break the bond were better now than they had ever been. Not only had Potter's intrusion into the Dark Lord's mind garnered more information on the spells than anyone had ever gathered, but both he and his colleagues were far freer to test and study the Mark. Any active work on the Mark would require, of course, Potter's presence. The man felt a pang of guilt at the acknowledgment of what further study was likely to cost the boy, and made a promise to limit such work as much as possible.

"Have you read my notebooks, sir?"

"No, I did not feel that was necessary. There is nothing pertaining to the scar that I do not know of, yes?" He directed the question at Harry.

"Almost everything Hermione has is what you and I worked out during our lessons. I can't think of anything I didn't tell you." Now that Snape knew he could slip into Voldemort's mind at will, that charade was passed.

"Then what is it you need to know, Miss Granger?"

Always studious, she pulled a quill, ink, and yet another notebook from her bag. "Well, let me tell you what assumptions I've made, and we'll see if the foundation's right. Then we'll worry about filling the gaps. Maybe Harry can try to connect it all with what he's seen the Dark Lord do."

Snape answered questions until it was time for the three to get ready for dinner. Harry seemed preoccupied, but for the most part was attentive to the discussion. The girl's questions were astute, and Snape grudgingly acknowledged to himself that she had made several accurate assumptions about his Mark. As the Potions Master escorted the pair to the hall, his unease at discussing his bond to the Dark Lord was quelled somewhat by the satisfaction that his plan had worked, and Harry had been at least mildly distracted from worrying about the werewolf.


	19. Chapter 19

** A/N:** To **MPS**, it's funny you asked that, since this chapter gets into that a little bit. However, there have been other such "promises" before this. At least one. They're the promises Harry makes, to himself and others, that may end up haunting him for the rest of his life.

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 19

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The full moon came and went, bearing no word from Remus. Harry agonized over his promise to Snape not to use his bond to Voldemort to spy. By the evening after the full moon, the young man was not sure if his word to his professor or his fear of seeing Remus being tortured was keeping him from doing so. He had been sending Hedwig out, however, with a note addressed to Remus asking, simply, "Are you well?" The owl had returned yet again, and Harry was in the owlery as midnight approached, trying to coax Hedwig out for another flight. As he gazed out into the night sky, movement caught his eye. A figure stumbled out from beneath the still branches of the Whomping Willow, illuminated by the gibbous moon. From so far away, Harry could not make out details, but his heart leapt to his throat, and he was suddenly sure.

Another quickly written note was attached to Hedwig's leg. "Find a professor and give them that letter. Any professor!" With the bird in flight, Harry raced to the stairs.

Outside, Harry spotted the man in time to see him fall just outside the Willow's reach. The ground between them melted away as Harry rushed to his friend's side. Finally, he could see him clearly enough to know that Remus had returned. His cloak was filthy and torn, barely covering his panting form as the werewolf knelt.

"Remus!" Harry fell to his knees and pulled him into a hug. "Are you okay? I sent Hedwig to find a professor. Someone should be here in a few minutes. Can you stand?" The man nodded and, legs shaking, rose. Harry pulled out his wand.

"_Lumos_." The tip of Harry's wand lit up as the boy sighed in relief. Though bruised and battered, his friend would survive. Harry himself had suffered worse, and he did not have the healing qualities of a werewolf. "I'll send up a flare in a minute," Harry said. "So whoever comes out can find us."

"They'll be too late," Remus said without emotion. Harry paled. Was there something wrong with Remus he could not see?

"_Expelliarmus_!" Remus shouted, knocking Harry back. The unexpected attack left Harry's wand out of reach. "_Accio _ wand," Remus said, much more softly this time. "You won't live long enough for them to be able to help you."

Harry's eyes grew wide, pale green in the moonlight, as realization struck. _Polyjuice Potion,_ Harry thought as the man continued to speak.

"My mission was to destroy your wand, but now that I have you here, I think I'll kill you once I've burnt this. _Locomotor Mortis._"

He had no hope of dodging the curse, laying on his back only a few feet away from his attacker. Harry's legs stiffened and his knees refused to bend. Harry made a show of struggling, earning a disdainful look from whoever it was who now looked like Remus. Secretly, however, Harry slid his hand up his sleeve to brush against Snape's gift. With a sneer, his captor pointed his own wand at Harry's, and the moment his attention turned from the immobilized boy, Harry had his second wand out.

Harry put all of his energy into the blasting curse that caught the man in the side, knowing he had but one shot to push his target back far enough. Both wands flew from his hands as he was tossed several feet into the air. He did not land immediately, however, as the Whomping Willow brought a mighty bough up, crashing into him. The snapping of bones and horrifying angle the body took on left no doubt in Harry's mind that his attacker would no longer threaten anyone. It was at that moment that some logical corner of Harry's mind stumbled on another explanation for the attacker's appearance. The Imperius Curse suddenly seemed the more likely explanation, and the thought that he may have just killed his friend, his father's last friend, struck him nearly as hard as the body struck the earth. It came down almost exactly where the man had been standing when Harry had blasted him.

Terrified to look but unable not to, Harry shut his eyes in relief when the features of the body before him began to shift and change. This was not Remus, simply a Death Eater under some kind of spell or potion. He opened his eyes again, and grief overtook him again. Shattered, with cold, empty eyes staring at him, Draco Malfoy lay dead. Harry went numb. _I shouldn't care,_ Harry told himself. _He was going to kill me. He wanted the Mark, Snape said so. He made his decision._ The thoughts were no consolation. Even when Snape had told him that he had no hope for Draco, Harry still believed that some day the other boy, along with the seven others who had been Marked, and along with all the others who still attended Hogwarts, could be saved. Harry had decided to save them, though he could not remember when or with what words. Maybe there had been no words at all. But the promise was still in his heart, and tonight he had broken it.

_"Lumos,_" a voice behind Harry said. He did not even blink as Snape's light illuminated his failure. He did not turn around when the Potions Master asked, "Harry? Where is Remus?" He did not answer as the man's footsteps brought him to Harry's shoulder. He could only stare at the body before him. They had been rivals for years, but never enemies. Not in Harry's mind. Not like Voldemort was an enemy.

Snape's hand was on his shoulder, though he did not speak. Harry felt like he had to say something. "I hit him with a blasting curse and knocked him into the Willow's reach."

"You did what you had to, Harry." The professor's hand fell from his shoulder, and Harry reacted to the sudden loss of contact. Though the night air was still warm, he began to shiver uncontrollably. Still behind him Snape pulled the edges of his own cloak around Harry, his arms folding around them both. He hugged the young man to his chest, Harry taking what warmth the man had to give, Snape offering what little compassion he could still find within himself.

Harry did not cry. He had no more tears to give to Voldemort. He mourned, though. He mourned for the dead man in front of him, and all the dead that would come after. He mourned for everyone he could not save. And he mourned for himself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Arms tightened around him.

"We should go back to the castle, Harry. It's not safe. And if he escaped without us knowing, there must be a security breach somewhere. Other lives may be at risk."

Harry simply nodded in response, not quite paying attention, but trusting to Snape to know what was best. Harry picked up the two dropped wands, and the Potions Master cast a masking charm on Draco's body as he led his student back to the school in silence.

McGonagall met them in the entrance. "There you are! Harry, we have wonderful news. Remus Lupin is alive and well. He was captured, as we had feared, but escaped last night during the full moon." She stopped speaking when her news failed to elicit cries of joy. "What is it, Harry? Severus, what has happened?"

Snape shook his head. "Not here, Minerva. We need to see Albus."

The interview with the headmaster was mercifully short. Harry told his story and the Ministry was informed immediately. McGonagall was sent to show the officials where the Whomping Willow grew and to inform Harry's friends that he was with the Headmaster, the latter to keep them from sending out search parties that might stumble upon their former peer. Snape stayed by Harry's side. The Ministry official who took Harry's statement took even less time questioning him than Dumbledore had.

"That's all?" Harry asked as the man stood to leave. "You don't need anything else?"

"Well, no, Mr. Potter. Not really. Begging everyone's pardon, but the Malfoy boy was a known Death Eater. We'd only just found out about his escape when Headmaster Dumbledore reported this. We have a dead Auror in his old cell, charmed to look like him. According to the Acting Minister, we're under martial law. So what happened tonight was either an act of war, or plain old justice. Either way, I don't think we'll need to bother you about it any more." And with those words and a polite nod, he left the room.

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Severus watched the headmaster as the Ministry investigator left. Though Dumbledore was trying to hide it, Snape could see his superior was shaken by what had happened. A Death Eater had made it onto the grounds and he knew the old man had thought that impossible, at least not without Dumbledore knowing about it. As he took Harry by the arm and lead him away from the headmaster's office, he wondered if the tree would still be there the next morning. Secret passages were useful, yes, but only while they remained a secret.

At the bottom of the stairs, Snape's attention was on Harry. He had been silent for most of the hour since Snape had found him, speaking only when directly addressed. He knew all too well how the boy was suffering.

"Harry, if you'd like, I have a good deal of work I need done. There are some ingredients to prepare and preserve. And I did not have time this summer to make antidotes for most of the potions I will teach this year. When Gryffindors are in the dungeon, I need to prepare for the worst."

He did not react to the joke, but answered, "Thank you, Professor, but I don't really want to talk any more."

"And I said nothing of talking. Simply working. Something to occupy the mind."

"Oh," Harry said. "It's late, though. I don't-"

"The time is irrelevant, Harry. I am sure you will not sleep tonight, and sleeping potions will not help you when you wake up tomorrow." He led the way to the dungeon. "Come. I am up all night anyway. The undead do not sleep."

Harry gave him a soft chuckle for the self-deprecation. He knew Harry feigned it for his own benefit, but accepted the false laugh as better than nothing.

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Two hours later, Harry sealed another jar of Blizzard Lizard gizzards and excused himself from Snape's private workroom to sit by the fire. His fingers tingled as he held them close to the flames, the feeling returning.

"You should have worn the gloves I gave you," Snape said, settling next to him on the couch.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't mind the cold. I kind of liked it, I guess. And I had to pay more attention to keep from getting frostbite. The whole point was to distract me, right?"

"Indeed it was."

The Potions Master leaned back into the couch and gazed into the fire. Moments later, his fingers warm again, Harry did the same. The two sat in silence, both lost in thoughts. Harry again replayed Draco's death in his mind. He recalled the boy he had known, arrogant and angry. He reflected on the Draco he saw on the first day of school, with his emotionless voice, and the voice, deeper in pitch and disguised as Remus's but just as emotionless, that had threatened him tonight. Draco had promised to hurt or kill him more than once, but Harry had never taken the words seriously. He had no doubt, though, that the threat had been sincere this time, and given a chance, the other boy would have killed him without a second thought. He closed his eyes and sighed softly.

"You had no choice, Harry. He would have killed you, given the chance."

"And when I had the chance, I killed him. Are we that different, then?"

"Of course you are, Harry. You didn't go looking to kill anyone tonight. You acted in self-defense and in doing so, saved more than your own life. He would have killed again; of that you can be certain. His hands are stained with the blood of more than one innocent."

"And my hands are stained now too, aren't they?" Harry asked more to himself than to his professor. "That'll never wash off, will it?"

"No, it won't, Harry. But it doesn't have to ruin your life. You can't let it. You made a choice tonight, Harry. You chose your life over his. If you close yourself off and sink into guilt, you'll be killing yourself for him."

"This won't be the last time, though. I don't know if I can kill anyone again, not if it feels like this."

"It can get easier. It certainly gets easier for some."

"I don't think I want it to," Harry said softly.

Snape's arm circled around his shoulders and pulled him close. Harry leaned against the man's chest, thankful, eager, for the support. "Then it won't."

Harry rested in his friend's embrace. Here was someone who understood everything he had been through. Here was someone who knew that sometimes being right or good, fighting for the Light, held little consolation. Here was someone who, tonight at least, did not need him to be strong and was willing to lend him strength. Those arms around him by the Willow had been all that kept him from falling apart.

Finally, Harry asked, "How do I go on, then? How can I fight knowing I have to kill at least one more person, and probably more?" It was an earnest question, one Harry desperately wanted an answer for, and one he thought Snape alone may be able to answer.

"Logic says you realize that actions taken in self defense shouldn't lead to guilt. Draco would have killed you, and the Dark Lord surely will try. But if it were that simple, neither of us would bear such heavy burdens. Someone once told me that you atone for the lives you take with the life you live. If you must feel that you owe a debt, pay it by proving your life had value and was worth protecting. You're going to bring wonderful things to this world, Harry, and I'm not just talking about your role in this war. If he had lived and you had not, the same could not be said. I know very well that that is little comfort, but it is true."

"Is that why you're a teacher?"

The Potions Master was silent for several seconds before answering. "That's why I began teaching, yes."

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Severus shook Harry's shoulder gently. The boy grunted and pushed his hand away. He considered, briefly, hexing the sleeping figure awake, but decency got the better of him. "Harry, wake up." He shook the boy again and succeeded in getting his eyes open.

Harry looked around in a daze; it took several seconds of staring before he recognized his teacher standing in front of him. "What time is it?"

"It is half past six. I allowed you to sleep in as it is a weekend."

"Sleep in?" Harry asked, then caught the amused smile on Snape's face. "I feel asleep."

"It's a bit late in the conversation to just be arriving at that conclusion. At any rate, you really have to be getting back to your tower. Your friends will be worried, as will Minerva."

Harry stood and straightened his robes. "Can't I stay here? I'd really rather not have to talk to anyone right now."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I understand how you feel, but I have work to do for the Order. And I am sure your friends will respect your reluctance to talk."

"You don't know how Hermione can get," Harry argued.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You really don't want me, of all people, to point out that you are not giving your friends enough credit, do you?"

Harry chuckled. "No, that would be going too far, I suppose. And you're right. Can you tell me what you're doing for the Order?"

Harry's choice of words were not lost on the man. If he said that no, he could not tell him, he suspected Harry would accept that. The work, however, was hardly something he needed to keep secret from Harry. "I'm working with Fletcher and some of the other less reputable members, discussing which Death Eaters are to be approached for information."

"None will be as highly ranked as you, though, right? Could anyone else hide their actions as well as you?"

"No, I do not imagine so. All in the Inner Circle are surely loyal. My betrayal certainly triggered a very intense, and very unpleasant, interrogation of those who remain. But his lesser servants are not subjected to his direct questioning often and will at least have knowledge of whatever operations they take part in. Several minor informants may allow us to anticipate larger plans."

"Good luck, then." Harry stepped toward the now-visible archway and turned back to face Severus. "And Professor? Thanks. For last night, and . . . everything."

Unused to gratitude and suddenly uncomfortable, Severus responded with a nod. Before Harry left, he added, "Ah, there is a stone in the wall, just left of the bust of Slytherin. Round, set within a larger block. Press it with your wand and I will know you are outside. Salazar makes a poor messenger."

"Thank you again."

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Harry stepped into the Gryffindor common room lightly, hoping no one would be awake. So many thoughts were crowding his mind, he needed time to sort everything out. He made his way silently to his room and managed to lay down without waking any of his roommates.

Never before had he felt so alone in the Tower. He wondered if his friends would see the difference in him tomorrow. Would they see the life he had taken scrawled across his face? Logically, he knew he was still the same person he was before, but still, he felt different. Could his friends understand that, or would they simply congratulate Harry on winning the fight and ridding the world of another Death Eater? The official from the Ministry had wanted to congratulate Harry; Harry could sense it. If winning felt this way, he would be more than happy to experience more draws. These were the same thoughts that had plagued him most of the night, aside from the few hours of sleep he had found on Snape's couch.

Snape understood, of course. Lately, it was always Snape who understood. When Harry had needed, more than anything in the world, someone to _not _ talk to, Snape had been there. And when he did need to talk, he knew Snape had answers that would mean something. He needed someone to tell him it was going to be hard and painful, because it was hard, and it was painful, and saying anything else would have been a lie. And beneath it all, Harry had heard what Snape was really telling him. Harry would get through this, because Snape had too.

He could not help but wonder if the Potions Master had known exactly what Harry needed because he, too, needed it.

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Harry never returned to sleep that morning. Eventually, Dean and Seamus woke up and greeted Harry, then dressed and headed off to breakfast. In doing so, they managed to wake both Neville and Ron. Harry fended off their questions, assuring his friends he was okay, but explaining that he doubted he could tell the story twice. They agreed to wait until after breakfast when the girls could hear the tale without anyone else eavesdropping.

They took the news with shocked silence which Ron eventually broke. "Good work, Harry. One less Death Eater. I'll have to thank Snape again for the wands, too."

"Don't say that, Ron!" His friend gaped at him. "There was nothing good about it. It was horrible."

"It's over now, Harry," Hermione said, placing a hand on his arm. "You were just defending yourself. He would have killed you."

"That doesn't make it any easier. And it's not over. I'll have to live with this forever."

"Better him dead than you, Harry. You can't regret saving your own life," Ron said.

"I don't. It's not that at all, it's. . . You guys don't understand."

"Well, talk to us, Harry," Ginny spoke up. "We're your friends. We want to understand; help us."

"No!" Harry jumped up. "Don't you get it? I don't want you to understand. I hope none of you ever do. No one should know what it's like to kill someone else."

Ron paled, and Harry suddenly very much wanted to be alone. He started to talk walk away when Neville called to him. "Harry, you can't leave by yourself." His friend caught up to him. "It's too dangerous Harry. If anyone else knows and wants revenge. . ." Harry sighed, recalling his agreement not to wander around alone.

"Well, I'm going to the library, then."

The day did not improve, certainly not after Dumbledore pulled Harry aside just before lunch to warn him that the Heads of Houses would be filling their students in on what had happened. It would be in the _Daily Prophet _soon enough, and the Headmaster wanted to avoid any scenes. Harry simply nodded, trusting the teachers to give only the details necessary to quell the rumors. So, by mid afternoon, the whole school knew. No one asked him anything about it, however, which was curious but by no means unwelcome. Harry did start to worry that his classmates were too afraid of him to even talk to him now, but Luna later explained that all the Heads had expressly forbidden anyone from approaching Harry about it.

By dinner, Snape had not returned, and Harry found himself missing the quiet of the dungeons. He had never been able to concentrate well when reading, so the library provided little distraction from his thoughts. Not long after the students returned to the Tower after dinner, Harry excused himself and drew the curtains about his bed. Fatigue should have overwhelmed him, but for the second night in a row, sleep did not come until very early the next morning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry woke, sweating, heart racing, and sitting upright in his bed. His sense of panic fled as consciousness rose. He had no memory of the dream that had caused his violent awakening but had a good guess. With a quiet sigh, he checked the time and decided that an early breakfast alone was better than one in the Great Hall. One invisibility cloak and one tickled pear later, he was sitting alone near the fires at a long table with a cup of tea and some toast.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startled him from his introspection. Harry turned guiltily to find Snape behind him. "Ah, good morning, Professor. Good to see you back."

Snape simply smirked in response and sat across from Harry. He must have been a regular visitor to the kitchen as a House Elf appeared instantly with a plate of food and a cup of black tea.

"You should not be down here, Harry."

"I know. I don't come here often. And I try not to get in the Elves' way."

"That's not what I was referring to. I'll be taking ten points from Gryffindor for the infraction, but I'm more concerned with you being here alone in an area of the castle not visited often by staff, and theoretically not at all by students."

Harry picked up his cloak. "I used this to get here. And Dobby and the other House Elves keep an eye out for everyone. Everyone but teachers, I guess. But since it's only been the Defense teachers I had to worry about in the past, I guess that's not a concern this year."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Explain what you mean by that."

Harry was taken aback. He could sense anger hovering at the edge of Snape's voice. It was a sound he was no longer accustomed to hearing. "I meant I can trust her not to try and hurt or kill me, unlike four of the last five teachers we've had." Harry suddenly understood what Snape had thought he had been saying. "I never thought she was harmless, sir."

"And she most certainly is not," the man stated, then visibly relaxed.

"Is there a reason you've been so nice to her lately?" Harry had been curious about that for some time.

The Potions Master gazed into his tea, swirling it about gently. "There is. It has little to do with her personally, really. But she occasionally requires assistance, and for the first time in a very long while, I am in a position to provide it."

Harry's eyes grew wide. "You're being _nice_!" he accused. Snape simply gazed at him coolly. He chewed on his toast for a little while, then added. "If you don't mind me saying so, I think it's great that you can provide assistance simply because you want to."

Snape chuckled at Harry and pointed at him. "That kind of comment, Mr. Potter, is exactly the sort of thing that fueled my assessment of your arrogance."

Harry was puzzled. He knew the man was not calling him arrogant, but he could not see what he had said that could be mistaken for it. Surely he was not referring to his casual questioning of a professor, as until recently Harry would never have done so with the Potions Master.

"And you still have no idea what I mean, do you?" Snape asked. Harry shook his head, smiling crookedly. "You said it was 'great' that I could help Professor Jones simply because I want to. Did it escape your notice that you brought that situation about? I am free to act without ulterior motive because of you."

Harry blinked. "That's not what I meant-"

"I am aware of that. I find it amusing that it had not even occurred to you until I pointed it out. For years I assumed you were self-centered when in fact you are simply too thick to gloat."

"Well, there it is. You were almost nice again. I was getting worried, but I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Nice? Even almost nice? Nonsense. Fortunately, I have business with the Headmaster and will be spared further accusations."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After his meeting with Albus, Severus made his way to his own office lost in thought. He was finally becoming accustomed to these periodic insights into Potter's character. Insights that did not include vitriol, at least, were a relatively new addition to his thoughts about the boy. What he had said to Harry at breakfast had been true, though the man had never consciously thought about it. Harry honestly did not consider his own role in such things. He had no problem blaming himself, in part at least, for his godfather's death. And surely his guilt over Draco would linger for some time. But though he had had a hand in many important, positive situations, he did not see himself in that light. It was a selflessness Severus was not used to. And it was that, he realized, that led so many to his side. Harry possessed a charm that few had, and if he were ever truly aware of it, he would lose it.

Back in his office for only a few minutes, Severus had just sat at his desk when the object of his thoughts knocked at the door. "Followed me to further assault me with claims of my kindness to the elderly and affection for small animals?" Snape asked.

Harry chuckled and entered. "I would never go that far. Plus, I haven't time. I'm spending the next month answering the day's mail from adoring fans." With an insolent grin, he approached the desk, then grew noticeably subdued. "Actually, I came to ask if you still needed ingredients prepared. I don't think I was very good company yesterday for my friends. You were right about them not pushing me to talk, but it was still uncomfortable. I know they want to help, but there's nothing they can do or say, but I don't think they realize that."

"Or they are unwilling to realize it. And if that is the case, simply remember that they are not trying to hurt you, they simply do not know what you need and are unused to being unable to help." Harry nodded and lowered his head. "As for ingredients, I do have some more work to take care of, yes."

He led Harry into the classroom and showed him what needed to be done. The preparations were simple enough, just time consuming and requiring more care than younger students were ever willing to give.

"Oh, and I forgot to ask earlier," Harry said as he heated the cauldron of warthog optic nerves. "Did you have any luck yesterday?"

"Yes, actually. I made contact with two Death Eaters who have expressed a desire to help." Snape set down his quill. He should have told Harry this immediately. He knew why he hesitated, and it was irrational. "Their names are Hobbins and Kletch. Both have been Death Eaters since the last war, though neither rose very far, which seems to suit them both just fine. Hobbins's story is not unlike mine. He was an unhappy child and grew to an unhappy adult. Kletch comes from a family of dark wizards but apparently lacked the strength to refuse the Mark when his parents insisted. And both. . ." Snape trailed off; Harry turned to face him, concerned. "Both required assurance that, if it should come to it, they would be given the same protection from the Dark Lord that I have received." Harry tensed and his green eyes nearly blazed with intensity.

"What did you tell them?" Harry asked. It looked to Severus like the boy was holding his breath.

He had struggled all day yesterday with the question, knowing that both Death Eaters would only turn if they could avoid the Dark Lord's punishment. As necessary as new spies were to the Order, Snape had never been one to make promises on another's behalf. Making a promise that would cost him nothing while earning Harry the potential for excruciating pain had been one of the most difficult tasks the Order had ever set him. "I told them they would be protected," he admitted.

Harry exhaled noisily. "Oh! I was afraid you'd told them no. They have a way to get to the school if they need me?"

"They do," Severus replied, hiding his surprise. Though really, the boy's reaction should not have surprised him at all. Of course he would want to risk the worst pain imaginable if it meant gaining two more spies. No, the Potions Master thought, Harry did not think in quite those terms. In his mind, he was protecting two more people from the Dark Lord, not gaining two spies. He probably would have agreed to protect them even if they had not agreed to risk themselves. Harry had turned back to his work as Snape continued to watch him.

The boy was, quite literally, the only thing standing between him and death by the Dark Lord's Mark. As a Death Eater and a spy, he had had to put his life in the hands of others on countless occasions and he had hated every moment of it. So many people had failed him in the past, he had learned to trust only his own skills and his own resolve. How was it, then, that this latest situation was met not with fear and frustration, but confidence and trust?


	20. Chapter 20

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 20

**A/N** I know, I know, I promised slashy goodness. There's definitely some of that here, and a few good (I hope!) scenes between the two. But now they finally seem to understand one another. Was a long time coming, but you know how stubborn Snape can be. He simply refuses to ravage Harry senseless, no matter how much I try to get him to!

Aethen

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Harry did not have much opportunity to dwell on Draco's death the following week. Both Hermione and Professor Flitwick had made some progress tracking down more of the spells used in the Markings. So far, however, nothing particularly surprising or useful had been discovered. One of Flitwick's discoveries was a spell that allowed the caster to feel physical sensations as the target felt them, but Harry's ability to feed spells back to Voldemort had all but proved that theory previously. Still, knowing which spell caused the effect was progress. The group still lacked the most important piece, though: the spell that bound the target to Voldemort and allowed the spells to act as a single unit. Nothing they had come across thus far explained why the Dark Mark was more than the sum of its parts.

In addition to the spell research, Harry and his friends had begun combat training once more. Neville volunteered to help Luna catch up to the group, and everyone agreed. During the summer, his tutoring of Ginny had helped him as much as it had helped the younger girl. It was decided that three nights a week and afternoons on Sunday would be spent with Professors Snape and Jones. Harry had noticed in the first week that his own training tended to focus on offense while his friends received more instruction from Jones on defense. Specifically, Jones taught them how to defend someone else while keeping themselves alive as well. Though no one said anything directly, Harry understood who the 'someone else' was meant to be.

After the first Sunday afternoon lesson had finished, Jones dismissed everyone and Snape called for Harry to remain. The man led the way silently to his office and waved Harry inside. As they entered, a House Elf appeared with tea, which she promptly set on the desk before disappearing again. Snape sat down and helped himself to a cup of tea, casting a disapproving look at Harry when he came across the small creamer, which he shoved toward Harry.

After a moment, Snape said, "I don't imagine I need to tell you that the Headmaster was quite disturbed when he discovered young Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts in secret." Harry sighed into his tea. "There is nothing about that night that isn't unfortunate," Snape continued. His voice had lost its businesslike edge. "And the most important parts cannot be undone. But still, we must take steps to fix what can be mended. Specifically, the passages that lead to and from the castle must be warded. All but one will be rendered unuseable. The one remaining will be warded to prevent the passage of anyone but a select few."

"I assume I'll be one of the ones who can use it, then," Harry said, once again reminded that his safety was placed above everyone else's.

"I imagine, yes. But that is neither here nor there. The passages will be dealt with tonight after dinner. You will be assisting in the casting of the wards."

Harry blinked. "You want me to help?"

Snape gazed at him. "Some members of the Order do, yes. Be prepared to use the wand I supplied you. Ollivander's wands are not as well suited to the group-work that will be done tonight. Which students know of the passages on your map?"

"Just my friends. The ones who were with me when you brought Luna back. Fred and George Weasley know of them, too. They're not students anymore, though."

Snape nodded. "They will be informed not to attempt any mischief through them, then. And you will relay the same to your friends. It is quite likely that in addition to wards and barriers, we will be setting trap-spells as well. They will not wish to be caught in them." Harry agreed. "Now, Mr. Potter, I must stress the seriousness of this undertaking. First and foremost, the workings tonight will involve several of the most powerful wizards in the order. You will behave in a mature manner at all times; you will not pester anyone with questions, or, for that matter, unasked-for advice. You will do only what you are told to do, nothing more, nothing less. Is that clear?"

Harry squirmed under Snape's glare, taken back to previous years and myriad lectures. "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Then we are done for now." Harry set his teacup down and stood. "Ah, yes, you will also need to bring Lupin's wand with you. You still have it, I presume?"

Harry beamed. "Yes, I do. I'd forgotten about it, though. Is he going to be here to collect it, then?"

"I have no idea. I am simply relaying a message."

Hopeful, Harry thanked Snape for the tea and headed back to the Tower.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After dinner, Harry met the Headmaster, McGonagall, Flitwick, Jones and Snape in the Great Hall. Presently, they were joined by Shacklebolt and Remus. Harry lunged as his father's friend and pulled him into a hug. "Are you okay, Remus?"

With a laugh, the other man hugged Harry back. "I'm fine, Harry. Really. I'm still not sure what they did to me, but I woke up tied to a chair. Good thing Death Eaters don't know enough to use chains." He gave Harry a wink. "As a matter of fact, next month I may go out looking for the two who got away from me."

"You'll need this, then," Harry said and pulled the man's wand from his pocket. "I, uh, guess you heard about how I got it."

The group started out of the Hall and Remus nodded. They were following a few feet behind the rest, and Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You know, if you ever need to talk about it . . ."

"Everyone keeps saying that to me. I really don't want to talk about it at all. But thank you."

"Are you sure? I know it may not feel like it, but just holding everything inside isn't healthy."

"I know. I did talk a little to Snape about it. I wouldn't say I'm okay with what happened, but I guess I said what I needed to say. And I suppose I heard what I needed to hear, too."

Harry caught Remus's surprised look when he mentioned having spoken to Snape. The older man remained silent as they took a turn toward the dungeons. With Remus lost in thought, Harry spotted Professor McGonagall slowing her steps to come even with Harry.

"Harry, before we begin, I wish to have a word. I hope this is unnecessary, but I would not be doing my duty as your teacher if I did not speak to you. We are on very serious business tonight. And in the past you have shown a distressing willingness to ignore the rules-"

"If I may, Professor," Harry said, hoping his polite manner would unbalance his teacher. "Professor Snape has already made the gravity of the situation very clear."

"Ah, well, very good then. He was quite adamant that you could handle this responsibility, and I feared he may have neglected to speak to you of the importance of focusing on the task."

Harry grinned and held onto that piece of information for later. "I don't think he'd ever forget to tell me to behave myself."

"Yes, well, that is true, I suppose. Professor Snape is nothing if not dedicated." Harry suspected a note of humor in McGonagall's voice as the group stopped before a blank wall. They were in the dungeon, though Harry had no idea exactly where.

"The passage here," Dumbledore said to Shacklebolt, "was often used by Severus when slipping away to meetings. The Dark Lord knows of its existence. I have detected nothing untoward within it, but I suspect that if any of the tunnels will present a hazard tonight, it will be this one. I chose it first so we may be at full strength should we find anything unexpected." The auror nodded at the headmaster and stood at the far wall. Snape stood beside him, wand at the ready, and Dumbledore stepped in front of the pair. If anything was lurking, it would meet the headmaster first. The rest of the group held their wands at attention but moved back down the hallway.

Dumbledore tapped a series of stones in rapid succession. Had Harry been trying to learn the sequence, he would certainly have failed as the man moved too quickly. Much like the bricks behind the Leaky Cauldron, the stones shifted to reveal a simple doorway. Silence and darkness greeted them, and the elderly wizard sent a ball of light down the tunnel. Satisfied that there was nothing to fear, Dumbledore smiled at the group and stepped inside.

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Six hours later, Harry was exhausted, his magical energy nearly spent and his concentration stretched to breaking. The dungeon passage had required little real work. Where it had passed through solid stone, the wizards had shifted the rock to flow into the shaft, blocking it in several different locations. Spells to dampen magic were overlain with alarm spells that would alert all the wizards, Harry included, if the blockades were tampered with.

The passage beneath the Whomping Willow had been harder to deal with. As the tunnel did not pass through solid stone, manipulation of the earth around it could have resulted in a collapse, endangering any students that walked above. As there was no guarantee that any such fall-in would be that night rather than during the day when people were above, they opted for purely magical barriers. Here, Harry participated in some very high level group castings. Each wizard poured their energy into the barrier spell, creating a single spell more powerful than any one wizard could produce. A series of such shields, again layered with alarm spells and protected by charms that drained and hindered magic use in the area, guaranteed that even a team of Death Eaters working in the cramped tunnel would require hours, if not days, to pass from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. And should they succeed, McGonagall left a surprise for them with a quick spell. Nothing would be able to get high enough in its branches to touch the knot that calmed the tree now that it had been moved.

The most work, though, went into the passage Snape had used to return with Luna. As none of the Death Eaters had seen Snape or Harry using it, it remained a secret. The Headmaster was not willing to trust entirely in that, but also wished to retain a final escape route for the students should the school's wards fail. The group entered the candy store's basement and bombarded the trap door with concealing charms. Flitwick added a complicated password spell just as the wizards moved into the passage. Everyone present chose their own password. The wards would alert the Headmaster whenever the door was opened; the unique passwords allowed him to know who was entering. From inside the tunnel, however, the trapdoor could be pushed open normally. Harry had been surprised when Flitwick asked him to come up with a password of his own, but as no one objected, he opted for "Prongs".

Remus commented on his choice as everyone made their way back to the school. "Well," Harry said, "Prongs is my Patronus. And if I ever need to use that trapdoor, I'll likely be in a bit of trouble."

"A good choice," Remus said.

As they entered the great hall and made to part ways, Harry asked, "What about the other passages? The map I have shows more."

"They were all taken care of some time ago. The rest were more widely known, which I'm guessing is why you preferred the one to Honeydukes," Remus said.

Harry grinned. "The twins told me Filch knew them, so I never bothered with them."

"They were all blocked, both magically and physically. If there are any passages into the school that we haven't secured, Dumbledore himself doesn't know about them."

Satisfied, Harry made his way sluggishly back to his bed.

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Harry shuffled into breakfast the next morning, yawning widely enough to suck in an owl, and sat down next to Hermione. Across the table, Ron asked how the night had gone, and Harry glanced around at who was in earshot before answering.

"Went fine. No unscheduled trips to Hogsmeade anymore, though. And where's Neville?" Harry felt a twinge of worry. He had been the last to wake up and knew the boy was not in Gryffindor Tower. His fear did not last long, however, when Snape stormed into the room followed by a terrified looking Neville. The Potions Master swept to the head table and Neville nearly fell into the seat next to Ron.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked.

Neville seemed to be regaining his composure when he answered. "I had to levitate one of the seventh year Slytherins to the infirmary. Luna's up there too, but she's okay, I guess."

"Luna?" Ron asked. "What happened?"

"Well," Neville said, twisting his napkin nervously, "I was in the hall outside, talking to her. She was asking me about some of the spells we went over last night. I turned around to come in here, and I heard her fall. Pucey hit her with some kind of curse. I'm not sure what it was, but he was laughing at her. She hit her head. There was blood in her hair. It was like that day when Snape came back with her." Harry shuddered, recalling how her hair had been stuck to her face with dried blood.

Ron, red-faced, jumped from the table. Hermione stood and leaned over the food to grab his wrist. "Ron, you can't! Do you know how much trouble you'd get in? Besides, he's not here, right?" She directed the last at Neville, who confirmed it. Ron, still furious, sat back down.

"He's in the infirmary now, yeah," Neville said, watching Ron carefully. "I was so mad when I saw it. I don't remember going for my wand . . ."

"You hexed him?" Ginny asked, clearly impressed.

Neville nodded shyly and said, "_Expelliarmus_. Knocked over the suit of armor out in the hall, too."

"That armor's spelled not to fall over. I saw Fred and George climbing on it once!" Hermione said.

"Well, yeah, I saw them doing that too." Neville was still twisting his napkin. "But I guess if you hit it hard enough . . ."

"Wait," Ron said. "Your spell hit the armor, or Pucey did?"

"Pucey," Neville answered.

"Bloody hell," Ron said. "Didn't know you had it in you, mate." He thumped Neville on the back. "Sent him up to Pomfrey, then? Well done."

After a full round of congratulations, Harry asked, "What happened with Snape? He caught you?" Neville nodded. "Detention?"

Neville blinked in surprise. "Well, no." He spoke as if the idea had not even crossed his mind before this. "I didn't even think of that. He walked Luna to the infirmary and told me to levitate Pucey and follow them. Even left the armor there on the floor, and boy was it mad! And he told Madame Pomfrey to have the guy pick up the suit of armor. And that he had detention with Filch for using magic in the halls."

"He didn't say anything else?" Ron asked.

"No. Not to me. Maybe he didn't know I cast anything."

"Maybe," Ron said, though he clearly was not convinced. Harry had his own theory, but kept quiet. He did flash the Potions Master a quick grin before going off to class, though, earning him yet another raised eyebrow.

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Harry hung back after potions again, waiting for his classmates to leave before confronting the professor. "Ha!" he said, pointing a finger at the man. "I've caught you doing two nice things in as many days. Admit it."

Snape crossed his arms and leaned casually against his desk. "I admit to nothing. If you are looking for someone nice, I suggest you try the Transfiguration or Charms classrooms. There is no one matching that description here."

Harry snorted. "Then how do you explain giving detention to that Slytherin but not to Neville?"

"Are you saying, Mr. Potter, that your friend was engaged in illicit activities this morning? To the best of _my_ knowledge, Mr. Pucey, clumsy oaf that he is, fell into a suit of armor after attacking Miss Lovegood. Mr. Longbottom was an innocent bystander. That is merely my understanding of it, of course. Have I made any mistaken assumptions you would like to disabuse me of?" Snape smirked at Harry, who scowled in return. Trapped.

"What about last night?" Harry asked. "You told me that some members of the Order wanted me to help last night. Whereas it was you who was quite adamant that I should be involved. Those are the words Professor McGonagall used: 'quite adamant'."

"Do you even know what 'adamant' means?" Snape replied cooly.

"I looked it up. It means 'displaying the qualities of Professor Snape when saying something nice about Harry Potter.'" That one got a twitch of Snape's lip. He was cracking.

"Nonsense." Snape muttered. "Regardless, I suggested that your power may be useful. I have never denied you are powerful. Your skills at controlling that power, however, are barely adequate to rival a garden gnome's. You are fuel. Kindling, if you will. Your greatest aid is given when you are being tapped for energy like a muggle battery. I concede, however, that under any other circumstances you have no aid to provide whatsoever. Students such as yourself must take what pity is offered to you, after all; therefore, you may count that as a compliment, as it is unlikely you will ever see praise more glowing."

Harry let out a laugh and gave a mock bow. "Impressive, Professor. We'll call this one a draw. I know you're nice, but you sure did a good job hiding it this time."

"I have nothing to hide. You are simply misguided."

"Well, look at the teacher I spend the most time with. How can I help but be misguided?"

"One should not say such things about Professor Binns," Snape said.

"True," Harry replied. "Luckily, one did not say such things about him at all." He remembered the other reason he had for remaining and asked, "Was Pucey getting revenge?"

"Unlikely," Snape said. "I am not certain that he was not acting on the Dark Lord's orders, but in seven years, I have determined that Pucey is an ass but not a Death Eater. I will speak to him during his detention to be sure, though. In the meantime, you and your friends should continue to be wary."

Harry assured the man that they would and made a mental note to ask about making sure Luna was not alone in the halls. The Gryffindors could protect themselves easily enough, and he trusted his house mates to watch out for her and Ginny when they were in classes together, but that still left a lot of time when Luna could be vulnerable.

"And Harry, please tell Mr. Longbottom that Professor McGonagall will be awarding twenty points for his control of the _Mobilicorpus_ spell."

"Does Professor McGonagall know she'll be awarding those points yet?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"Not yet, though I am sure when she hears the details, she will do so. Naturally, I find it foolish to reward basic competence, but your Head of House, I must say, shows shameless favoritism in regards to such things."

"Yes, well, it's a good thing not all Heads do that, isn't it? Good day, Professor, and thank you again for your kindness." Harry grinned and headed to the door.

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Before dinner, Harry decided that his own discomfort would have to take second place to his friend's safety. Cornering Terry Boot outside the Great Hall, Harry traded on his fame to convince Luna's House mates to keep an eye out for her. "She's a good friend of mine," Harry had told Boot. "I don't really know any other Ravenclaws her year, so I was hoping you could pass on a message. I'd consider it a personal favor if she didn't have to be alone in the halls."

Boot agreed immediately. "We'll do our best. We do try to look out for her, you know, but I think a lot of the Fifth Years are uncomfortable around her. And she likes to wander around the school at odd times. I can't promise she'll never be alone, but we'll make sure she's got someone to walk with between classes and meals."

"That's great," Harry said. "I really appreciate it. I'll talk to her about her wandering, too."

"Hey, can I ask you something? I've heard some rumors about Chambers and Brocklehurst."

Harry stiffened up at the mention of the Ravenclaw Death Eaters. There had been little mention of them since their capture, at least that Harry had heard, but he assumed that within the other three Houses things were not so silent. "I'll answer if I can."

"Well, I'm sure there are people who know more than I do, but since I was in the DA, I'm probably not hearing all the rumors, if you know what I mean. I heard they were looking for genealogical charts." Boot looked uneasy, but continued. "Actually, they've asked a few people to find out something, but I don't know what. I don't want to get anyone else in trouble, you know? But if something's going on that involves You-Know-Who . . ."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, something's going on, but it's not going to help Voldemort. His real name was Tom Riddle, and his father was a muggle."

Boot laughed out loud at that. "So all those Purebloods are following a half-breed? That's the height of irony, isn't it? And you told Chambers and Brocklehurst that?"

"Not directly, no. I just told them to look up Tom Riddle. I'm sure he'll disappear from the records right about when Voldemort shows up. They'll figure it out, but I didn't think they'd believe me if I told them."

"A Ravenclaw can't resist a puzzle, you know. I wonder how they'll take it."

"Poorly, I hope," Harry said. "Poorly enough to realize they're making a mistake following him, at least. Lucius Malfoy knows the truth, but I doubt many others do."

Boot agreed, then cocked his head. "I just realized something. You told the Gryffindors not to make a big deal about the arrests, didn't you?"

"Me and Ron, yeah. More Ron, actually. We didn't think it would help things."

"That was a good idea," Boot said. "It was rough that first night in the dorm. I think we all expected to have to put up with a lot of grief from you guys. I mean, no offense, but some of you Gryffindors can be really self-righteous."

"I know. We're not all like that, though. And to be honest, there's no guarantee that we don't have some Voldemort supporters in our house too. But I heard that Draco Malfoy suggested the other seven for Marking. There was no way he was going to name a Gryffindor as worthy." That was not quite a lie, he told himself. He could not very well divulge how he knew what Malfoy had done.

Boot nodded thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense. You're being careful, right? And you know if you need any help, you've got me and Michael and plenty of others who'll be there."

Harry assured him that he was looking after himself and thanked him before the two headed to their respective tables.

On the Gryffindor side of the Hall, Harry described his conversation. Neville looked relieved that Luna's safety was being considered and wondered aloud if anything would come of the Ravenclaws' investigation into Riddle's background. The elder Malfoy's part in it was not overlooked.

"I wonder if Voldemort even knows everything that happened with Harry and Ginny," Hermione said.

"I don't think so," Harry said. "Malfoy may not have told him at all, actually. Voldemort said something to him about not doing enough to try to get him alive again the night Cedric was killed. Seems to me Malfoy wasn't expecting to see him again."

"So maybe he doesn't know Malfoy gave away his secret," Ginny added. "I wonder what would happen if he found out."

"I was wondering the same thing," Harry said. "I'll wait to see what happens with the Ravenclaw Death Eaters. Then I'll find a way to let Voldemort know that Malfoy was using his diary for personal revenge."

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News of Neville's heroics, and Snape's less-than-typical reaction quickly spread through Gryffindor. In the common room that night, Dean Thomas commented on the noticeable change in the Potions Master's demeanor.

"I think he and Professor Jones are spending some quality time together, if you know what I mean. I've always said the git would loosen up if he'd just get laid."

"Dean!" Hermione shrieked.

"Well, I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's true. And _something_ has him, well, not quite happy, but less awful. He's even treating Harry like a human for a change."

"Leave me out of this," Harry said amiably. "I don't want to know what's going on with him and Professor Jones." _Might as well have some fun with the rumors,_ Harry thought. "And he's been nicer to me since this summer. Dumbledore had him giving me some extra lessons, and we sort of came to an understanding."

"He understands he's been an ass? Sorry Hermione." Dean tossed in the apology as an afterthought. Harry laughed.

"Something like that. Anyway, he doesn't hate me any more than he hates everyone else, now."

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That evening, as he finished up an essay for Charms, Harry's thoughts turned to the Potions Master and the strange, painful, journey their relationship had taken. _Snape would know if Malfoy told Voldemort about the diary,_ he thought. Everyone in his dorm was asleep, but he suspected the professor kept late hours. He reached for his invisibility cloak, then reconsidered. It seemed rather silly to run down the dungeons to ask something so trivial. It could wait until tomorrow. He set his cloak down and rubbed his palm. His hand had become cramped while writing. _He'll have a potion for that, I bet._ Armed with what had suddenly become a medical necessity, Harry swept his cloak about him and descended to the dungeon.

He found the stone Snape had mentioned previously and tapped it with his hand. After a moment, the wall shimmered and disappeared. Snape stood blocking the doorway; he glanced around the hallway, then stepped aside. "Come in, Mr. Potter, and tell me what brings you out of your dorm after curfew."

The man's voice sounded tired, far more tired than a night's sleep could cure. Harry removed his cloak and said, "I just came down to see if you had something for a cramp in my hand, but if something's wrong . . ."

"I have nothing for that; I imagine Madame Pomfrey does, however, if you are in dire need."

"Okay," Harry trailed off, then asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Merely a disappointment. Kletch, one of the spies I recruited recently, has been killed. It would seem his connection to me was discovered." His voice was calm and cool as always, but Harry suspected it was an act. He knew how he would feel if someone he had approached had been killed for talking to him. Certainly the Potions Master must feel something. Still, he had no idea what to say that could help. And he doubted any words would help, anyway.

"Oh," he said, feeling foolish. Snape seemed to be waiting for some reaction from Harry. "Is the potion simple to make? Maybe I can brew it. If you don't mind, of course." Harry noticed the other man relax slightly at the request.

"I have work to attend to, but you may use my workroom in the back. All the necessary ingredients should be there." Snape took a book from one of the cases and led Harry into a simple potions lab. Three walls held long counters, and several cauldrons were already in use. Snape indicated a free spot in the corner, set the book open to the appropriate page, and said, "I trust you will manage on your own, but I will answer whatever questions you have."

"Thank you," Harry replied. After Draco's death, Snape had shown more understanding by not speaking than anyone else had when trying to convince Harry to talk about it. Perhaps he could provide the same comfort in return. Neither spoke for well over an hour, Harry working on his potion, Snape working on his own eight brews.


	21. Chapter 21

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 21

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When his potion had cooled, Harry bottled it and cleaned up after himself, unsure if he should remain. Snape came to his corner of the work room and examined the results of his brewing.

"This looks adequate. You may return to your dorm with it, or leave it here and I will see that Madame Pomfrey gets it. Have you applied any to your hand?"

"Oh," Harry said, feeling foolish. "I guess I don't really need it any more. All the brewing worked the cramp out."

Snape nodded in response. "I will show you out, then."

Harry shifted his weight. He did not want to leave yet, not if Snape still needed his company. "Okay. If you want to be alone . . ."

"You are out far later than you should be already. Professor McGonagall would not be pleased were you to remain. You have classes tomorrow; surely you need some sleep."

"I suppose. What about you? Will you sleep?"

Snape gave Harry a careful look before replying. "Eventually. Perhaps." With a gesture from the Potions Master, the wall bled into an archway, and Harry slipped his cloak on and hurried back to his room. As he jogged through the hallways, Harry hoped he had returned some of the strength borrowed from the older man previously.

In the next seven days, Harry's thoughts turned often to his professor. Even that first night, he had given no indication that anything was wrong. But Harry knew very well the man was human and had to have been affected by the news of Kletch's death. And Harry had noticed, that night, that when he had asked Snape if he wanted to be alone the man had never said he did; he simply listed reasons why Harry should leave.

So Harry kept looking for reasons to return. In a week, he had visited twice to ask about spells they were working on with Professor Jones and once to clarify some problems he was having with a potions essay. Every visit, Harry was careful to ask if he was intruding. The man always indicated Harry was welcome, and though they discussed whatever Harry had come about at length, he was inevitably escorted out once the subject was covered. He was no longer telling himself he was trying to lend Snape some comfort. In truth, the man had been through enough in his life to be capable of recovering from the other spy's death quickly enough.

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The almost frivolous nature of Harry's visits were not lost on Severus. Any other year, and indeed, with any other student this year, he would have sent the intruder off with a stern lecture about wasting his time on things that could wait until class. But he had long ago resigned himself to the damnable fact that he enjoyed the young man's company. Harry had finally learned that sometimes–most times–silence did not need to be filled. That had certainly been true on the night Kletch had been killed.

There was no doubt the Death Eater had died because of Snape. His body had been dumped in an alley in Hogsmeade, branded with the Snape family crest on his back. The message was painfully clear and not meant for Snape at all. It was a warning to any other Death Eaters who may be thinking of turning. Had anyone but Rosmerta found the body, it would have made the front page of all the wizarding newspapers. The barmaid, though, knew that advertising Hogsmeade as a Death Eater dumping ground would be bad for business, and she saw to it that Albus found out about it before the Ministry.

Snape felt bad for the death, of course, as it was his own actions that had led to it. But Kletch could have refused, too, so the blame was not entirely his. When Harry had come to the room that night, though, the last thing he had wanted to do was discuss it. Harry had clearly sensed as much, and for that he was grateful.

He had cut the stay off, of course, when Harry's potion was ready. As a former Death Eater, he was under enough suspicion. Add to that the extra scrutiny he was under as a gay teacher, and he had always needed to be more careful than others when dealing with male students alone. With the exception of the night Harry had killed Draco, the boy had never spent a moment longer than was necessary for whatever medical or educational need that had brought him.

So, he left it to Harry to come up with reasons to stop by, and he dragged on the answers as long as he could. And for the first time in decades, he spent time with someone simply for the sake of spending time with him.

On Friday night, Albus called the faculty in to his office. The next day would be the first Hogsmeade Weekend of the year, and Severus expected a tedious lecture on keeping the students safe. Albus's news, though, was unexpected.

"An emergency session of the Wizengamot has been called by Minister Bones. She has told me she cannot divulge the details yet. I leave tonight for London and will not return until Sunday at best."

"That is suspiciously convenient," Severus said.

"I agree, Severus. As much as I would like to give the students a break from studying, I cannot justify allowing them to leave the grounds when I have been called away under such mysterious circumstances. I very much hope I am simply being a paranoid old man, but the students' safety comes first."

The rest of the faculty agreed. Better to disappoint the students then to endanger them.

"What shall we tell the students?" Minerva asked.

"The truth," Severus said. Minerva looked aghast at the idea of being so forthcoming. "Not all the details, of course, but it is no secret that the school is safely warded while Hogsmeade is not. And if you are so intent on allowing them to waste a weekend in the village, you can reschedule the outing for next week. Misleading the brats or withholding the need for them to remain on school property this weekend will only encourage them to find their own way to leave."

Albus seemed to be considering his words, surely a first for the Headmaster. "I think I will agree with Severus. Recent history has shown that the students in the most danger are not well served by keeping secrets from them."

With that decided, the faculty returned to their duties. The following morning, Severus had to put up with the incessant whine of upper-classmen during breakfast. After making sure his own House was suitably threatened into remaining at the school, he left the Hall in search of an escape. Harry caught him not ten feet out of the Great Hall.

"Professor Snape," the young man called behind him and hurried to catch up. "The Headmaster was just called away?"

"That's right. Bones has convened the Wizengamot. I do not know why, and that information is not for general dispersal."

Harry nodded his understanding and asked, "Is Vol- the Dark Lord planning something?"

"We do not know. Hogsmeade was canceled simply as a precaution."

"Interesting timing, though. If this wasn't just a way to get Headmaster Dumbledore away for the school, do you think he still knows he's not here?"

"That is likely. The Wizengamot cannot be called without certain procedures being followed. Even lesser Ministry Officials will know of it. Surely at least one of his followers is aware."

"Okay," Harry said frowning. "Oh, uh, will you be in your office today? Or your rooms? I may have some questions about the homework you gave."

"I have not planned my day that carefully. Surely I will be in one or the other, though."

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As it happened, Severus spent the morning in his office grading papers and answering Harry's questions. And the boy did have questions. He came by six times before lunch. The questions were hardly worthy of a trip from the library to the dungeons, but Severus humored the boy and answered them all, though his own work required attention and he could not get into the kind of long discussions they had in the past. Harry did not seem to mind, though, as surely he was only making the trip to assure himself of the Potion Master's safety.

After lunch, he was again at his desk. Almost an hour had passed since the meal when Harry again popped his head into the classroom. Amused, Severus said, "Wouldn't it be easier to finish the homework here where you can keep an eye on me?"

Harry blushed. "We Gryffindors aren't know for our subtlety. You don't mind?"

"Fetch your books. And remain quiet." Harry nodded and darted out of the room, returning shortly with his assignment and a few books. Nothing was said until Minerva arrived shortly before dinner.

"Oh, Mr. Potter. I did not expect to find you here."

"Mr. Potter has appointed himself my keeper in the Headmaster's absence," Snape said while Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, I see," she replied. "Well, I see no harm in allowing you to hear this. I have just heard from the Headmaster. He has assured me that the convention of the Wizengamot was no ploy of You-Know-Who's. He agreed with the Acting Minister that details should not be discussed via the floo or owl post. It appears we need not be quite so suspicious."

"Well, then," Severus said, "shall we go to dinner? Mr. Potter, you can finish your work on your own, I assume, as the Dark Lord seems uninvolved in the day's events."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I can," Harry said. "But the Dark Lord might still try something, since he knows Dumbledore's not here."

"I imagine he would have tried already if that were the case. I will be fine, I'm quite certain." Harry seemed disappointed, but Severus dismissed his reading of the boy's response. He had spent the entire day in his office. Surely Harry wanted to spend some time with his friends instead of worry needlessly about him.

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The following morning, as he pulled his robes on and prepared to head up to the Great Hall for breakfast, Severus learned that his assurance to Harry had been a mistake. Dizziness overtook him as his Mark burned. The pain was dull, less even than a normal summons, but disorientation and nausea struck him as well. Opening the wall took all of his concentration, and he managed only a step toward the arch when he lost his balance. Unable to steady himself enough to stand again, he slumped, gasping for breath, on the floor.

Severus focused on the steadily increasing pain in his arm, hoping the sharp burning would drive away the dizziness, but to no effect. _And it ends,_ he thought, waiting for death to come. His eyes darted around the room and caught the still-open archway. _No, Harry will come._ He cradled his burning arm and waited.

Though it seemed like hours, it took only minutes for Harry to step through the doorway. "Professor?" he called. "I'm sorry to bother you, but you weren't at breakfast and-" He saw Snape's prone form and rushed over. "Why didn't you get me?"

"Couldn't," Severus gasped. "Knew you'd . . . find me." Harry said nothing as he ran his hand once again up the older man's sleeve. His cool fingers soothed the burning though they clutched him desperately. The student tipped over on his side when he made contact, victim, no doubt, to the same disorientation that the Potions Master suffered from. Still, his grip remained strong and within moments of that first touch the sensations melted away.

Severus freed his arm from Harry's grasp, aware that the young man was, for the time being, trapped in his mind and not in control of his own body. He pushed himself, shaking, into a sitting position and leaned back against the side of his couch. Harry was still on his side, pale. Severus stretched a hand out, but Harry squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head slightly. After several long, deep breaths, the color returned to Harry's face and he rolled over onto his back.

"Thought I was going to be sick there for a minute." The two of them rested on the floor. Severus reflected on the indignity of being found weak and helpless in such a manner and discovered the idea did not trouble him at all. He trusted Harry would never use the incident against him. Finally, Harry spoke again. "How long was it?"

"I am not entirely sure. It struck just as I was leaving, exactly two minutes before the Elves normally set out the food. How long were you in the Great Hall before you came here?"

"Not long," Harry said. "I was only a meter or two inside the Hall when I saw you weren't there. I'm not sure if the food was out or not. Guess I'll cancel my chess game with Ron."

"You will do no such thing. You wasted all day yesterday with me. The Dark Lord has tested that I am protected without Albus here. There is no point in him doing so again."

"You didn't think he'd try at all this weekend," Harry argued.

Knowing this was a losing battle, Severus decided on a compromise. He did not want Harry to feel like he needed to spend every moment with him. Summoning a cork from his laboratory, he chanted a simple spell over it. The small piece of wood split in two equal halves. He handed one to Harry.

"Keep it in your pocket. If I need you, I will activate my half and yours will respond by attempting to rejoin its other half. It is not strong enough to pull you anywhere, but the tugging should be easy enough to feel." Harry frowned at the bit of wood. "I will charm mine to activate if I am in any kind of pain," Severus said. Harry still looked about to protest. "Do you not trust my ability to enchant a simple piece of wood? If I am in any sort of trouble, you will know of it immediately."

"I trust you," Harry said. He still looked skeptical, though.

"Then what is the problem?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. After a pause, he said, "Nothing, I guess. I suppose I'm okay to go back to the tower. Can you stand?"

In reply, Severus rose unaided. "Thank you for your haste in coming here." He offered his hand to Harry and pulled him off the floor.

After breakfast–taken in his rooms–Severus went to his office and sat before a pile of papers. Essays needing grades sat before him, but his thoughts strayed too often from his desk to Gryffindor Tower and the boy within. Yesterday, simply enjoying his company had seemed such a strange step. But back in his rooms, laying there as death crept upon him, he had counted on Harry in a way he had never been able to count on anyone.

Severus got no work done that day as he considered Harry's reaction that morning. He should have been satisfied that he would know if the man was in pain. Could it be that he simply wanted to spend the day with him? Certainly yesterday had been spurred by the Headmaster's departure, but the visits earlier in the week had had nothing to do with the Dark Mark.

His thoughts also turned to his own future, his own life, now that he could start thinking in those terms again. His own death was still very likely, if not through the Mark, then through the fighting that would surely reach even the grounds of Hogwarts. He could handle that, though. The possibility of death was nothing new, and in fact was farther away now than over the past few years. Harry's future was equally uncertain, though, and Severus was not sure how to process that.

Finally, ending hours of silent debate, he rose from his desk and returned to his rooms. With a few very simple preparations, he set himself down a path he had long thought would remain untrod by him. Indeed, it might still remain so, and he had no idea where it would lead regardless.

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After lunch, Severus sat in his study reading. Having made a decision did not clarify what form his next action should take. Indeed, he was not sure if any action was appropriate. So he resigned himself to simple acceptance. He would remain open to whatever came next.

What came, no more than an hour after Severus had left the Great Hall, was Harry. Severus sensed him tap the alarm stone in the hall and opened the wall for him. The boy entered looking peevish. "I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said quickly, pulling the cork from his pocket, "but I've tried to stop worrying. And I know this thing will tell me if you're hurt, so instead of worrying about you, I spent the whole morning jumping everything time the wind blew, thinking it was the cork pulling. I know it makes no sense, but you've never accused me of being rational about stuff like that. So there's no sense in me trying to play chess with Ron if I can't remember what piece does what. I'm sure you're sick of seeing me, but I promise to be quiet and stay out of your way if you'll let me hang out here, at least until the Headmaster gets back."

Severus simply sat back and let the young man fight an argument he'd already won. When Harry finished, he stood, arms crossed, waiting for the Potion Master's answer. "Call me Severus," he said. That was clearly the last thing Harry had expected to hear. "Given the number of times that has happened . . ." He indicated the section of floor the two had collapsed on earlier. "It seems somewhat petty of me to demand you use an honorific when we are alone."

"Um, if you say so. Severus."

"I do. I intended to spend the day engaged in some light reading. There is a Charms textbook for your level on that shelf over there. If you are going to spend the day protecting me from an attack that will surely not come, you may as well get your homework done." Harry agreed, and found the book in question. He settled onto the couch, leaning against the arm on the far side from the Potions Master. Snape picked up his copy of International Potions Quarterly.

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Harry scratched out a few notes and was interrupted by Severus's voice. "Harry, do you recall when you asked me about the uses of dried snail mucous? Researchers in Finland have found that dried frozen mucous behaves quite differently if it remains unthawed while the rest of the potion boils. It needs a cooling charm, of course, and would no doubt require a good deal of skill . . ." His voice died away as his eyes followed the article. Harry simply made a noncommital noise and returned to his reading.

Ten minutes later Harry had another two inches done when Severus spoke up again. "The new Potions Master at Beauxbatons is working on a more stable form of Wolfsbane that can be stored for up to two years." Harry looked up in interest this time, but Severus turned the page and said, "Ah, it is not perfected yet. Apparently the pain it causes is problematic." He flipped to the next page, muttering about the journal's editor for wasting his time with unfinished potions. Harry returned to his essay.

Harry had completed an entire page of notes before Severus interrupted again. "Dragon's blood prices are rising. But they always do this time of year." He had not taken his eyes from the page, and Harry looked up at him to see he was still reading and apparently expected no response. Harry intended to respond, though, and it had nothing to do with the price of Dragon's anything. He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it when a sense of deja vu swept him. He realized that this was exactly what he had talked to Hermione about. Exactly. He was not naive enough to believe it was a coincidence.

"It's not the same if it's not real," Harry said.

Severus looked up. "What's not real? The Dragon's blood shortage? I'm sure it's real, though possibly exaggerated. Many species of dragons hibernate, and as such-"

"That's not what I meant. I'm talking about . . . this." Harry waved an arm vaguely about him. "You overheard me and Hermione, didn't you? It's very nice of you to stage this, but it doesn't really count if you're just doing it because of this morning."

"Ah, I see," Severus replied. He put his book down and stood up. He took Harry's quill and placed it in the inkwell, then took Harry's hand in his. "Come with me," he whispered.

Harry stood and followed the man to the blank wall as the doorway shimmered into sight. With a quick glance down the hall for eavesdroppers, Severus stood Harry in front of the bust of Slytherin. "My doorkeeper," Severus said, nodding at the bust, "has already been instructed to allow you in whenever you ask. Should you be invisible, you must request entrance in Parseltongue as you cannot be identified on sight in that case. I will take my chances with any other Parselmouths with invisibility cloaks that roam the dungeons." Harry simply blinked in surprise. They returned to Severus's suite, the Potions Master still leading him around by his hand. This time, they went one of the bookshelves. Severus pointed to the shelf that Harry had gotten his textbook from.

"All of your textbook are here. I have copies of all the books used in the school, of course, but the rest are packed in a trunk. I only put out the ones I assumed you might want. As for the interruptions while you were trying to work, that was honestly done without artifice. The snail mucous you had asked me about once, and Wolfsbane is obviously of interest to us both. I was simply commenting on the Dragon's blood, though. Thinking out loud as they say."

"Again, I do appreciate this," Harry said. "But I don't understand why-"

"Because I know how you take your tea." His voice was soft again, and more earnest than Harry had ever heard it. "There is a bottle of cream in the pantry over there, charmed to keep it fresh and cold. And the House Elves have standing orders to keep it full."

"You hate cream," Harry said.

"Yes. But you do not, and you are welcome to have tea here whenever you like. You are welcome to study here whenever you like. You are welcome to come and talk whenever you like and, just as importantly, you are welcome to come and sit and not say anything at all whenever you like."

Harry felt overwhelmed. He had no idea what to say, so he focused on the feeling of his hand in Severus's. Now and then, the man's thumb would make a slow circle across his flesh. Finally, Severus broke the silence by clearing his throat.

"Speaking of tea, would you care for a cup?"

"Yes, I would." Harry stepped to the small kitchen with a smile. "I'll make it."

A few minutes later, Harry returned to the living room with two cups. Setting his own on the table in front of the couch, he handed Severus the other. Book in hand, Harry moved his quill and parchment down to Severus's end of the couch and without a word, sat down next to his teacher. He rested his shoulder comfortably against the other man's and opened his textbook.

"Is the tea okay," Harry asked. "One sugar, right?"

Severus put his cup down and shifted his body, bringing his side into contact with Harry's and resting his arm on the back of the couch. It was perhaps the most intimate contact Harry had had with another person since he was fifteen months old. It was enough.

"The tea is perfect," Severus said. "Just as I like it."


	22. Chapter 22

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 22

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Harry tried to concentrate on his Charms textbook, but the warmth of Severus against his side was too great a distraction. His move to the other side of the couch had been more instinct than reason. The older man's words told of an acceptance of what they meant to each other as friends, but Harry also suspected an underlying invitation. He knew Severus would never claim any feelings toward Harry unless he was sure they were reciprocated. Wondering just how deeply those feelings went, and not a little unsure about his own feelings, Harry finally spoke.

"Severus? I can't help but wonder," Harry said, closing his book but maintaining contact with the man. "What prompted . . ." Harry wondered what to call their current situation.

"The cream in the cupboard?" Severus suggested; Harry chuckled. Laying his own book down, the Potions Master replied, "On the surface, because we both seem to enjoy each other's company, and you have been doing a poor job of finding excuses to come see me–Gryffindors being what they are. I am merely taking pity on you by not requiring any excuse at all."

Harry had figured that much out on his own, and pressed for a better answer. "Okay, that's the surface, then. Below that?"

"Well, that's more complicated, isn't it?" Severus gazed into the fireplace, lost in thought. Harry was content to sit in silence until he spoke again. "Have you ever been completely content? I don't mean a few fleeting moments of peace garnered because you managed to forget your troubles for a while. I mean, have you ever had a time when you could look at the whole of your life and truly say you were content?" He let out a soft sigh and slipped his arm off the back of the couch, laying it across Harry's shoulders.

"I suspect you have not. I certainly cannot claim to have been, nor know if I ever will. But others can. It seems so, at least. There appears to be an entire group of people who like their lives exactly as they are." He grew silent again, his brow furrowed as if in need of the same answers as Harry. Finally, he reached over with his free hands and brushed Harry's hair away from his forehead, revealing his scar. "You've seen what Death Eaters do. You may not know details about my actions, but you know the kinds of things I've been ordered to do. That thought is, at times, terrifying. But I will never have to confess to you, because you already know my crimes." Harry rested his head against Severus's shoulder in reassurance.

"I can ask you the same question," Severus pointed out after several minutes of silence. "What prompted your move to this side of the couch?"

"You were on this side," Harry said simply, resting his hand on Severus's chest.

"That is the surface answer," Severus replied smoothly. He laid his hand atop Harry's. "And below?"

Harry took some time to collect his thoughts before answering. "A lot of what you said, I guess. But you already knew that, didn't you? You know what I've seen, what I've done. It's the worst part of my life, and it's nothing I want to share with anyone. It frustrates Ron and Hermione when I say they won't understand. But I don't want anyone to understand. Not because of me. You already do, though." Severus's hand squeezed his. "And you came back . . ." His voice softened and he concentrated on the feeling of the hand covering his own. As he spoke, his own thoughts became clearer. "When I first came to school, everything was so clear. Slytherins were bad; Gryffindors were good. That's all you needed to know, because people fit where they belonged. Good people did good things; bad people did bad things. But it's not always that clear. You were one of the first people to teach me that, by the way. At first it was scary. I liked knowing for sure what good and evil was. There's darkness inside me now. I don't know if it was always there, or if it's something Voldemort gave me when I was a baby. Maybe it's from this scar.

"You liked Voldemort's darkness, at first. You joined it. But you got to a point where it was too much, and you came back. I need to know people can do that. They can have darkness in them and still be good people. And I need someone who can understand that side of me.

"I don't know if I'll be content like you said, but it seems easier to imagine it lately."

This time, it was Severus who offered the silent assurance, resting his cheek against the top of Harry's head.

Neither moved for some time, and the afternoon slipped quietly away. Finally, Severus lifted his arm from Harry's shoulder and spoke softly. "You should return to your tower before dinner. We both have work to finish by tomorrow."

Harry sighed softly. "Yeah." He left his head on Severus's shoulder and did not move. With a chuckle, the older man pushed himself up, leaving Harry alone on the couch.

He gathered his books and stood. "I guess I won't finish this chapter down here." Ready to leave, Harry looked over to Severus uncomfortably. "If I finish early, can I come back here?"

"If it is not too late. I do have work to do, though, so I may not be good company. But as I said before, you are always welcome." Harry smiled and stepped toward the wall, which disappeared before him.

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Harry knew he had a goofy grin through much of dinner, but he could not seem to get rid of it. Instead, he chose to ignore Severus sitting at the head table. He knew his grin would only grow wider and subject him to Severus's taunts later. Ron commented on it, and Harry shrugged it off as simply an unusually good mood. As the meal drew to a close, Professor McGonagall handed him a folded note asking him to see the headmaster.

"Looks like Dumbledore is back," Harry told his friends, noticing as he did so that McGonagall was whispering something to Severus. As the Potions Master stood and left in the direction of Dumbledore's office, Harry decided to follow. "I'm going to go up now. I'll let you know what I can."

He caught up Severus in the hallway. "You may as well go up with me," Severus told him. "I am sure we are being called for the same reason."

Harry stopped short. "But we didn't do anything . . ."

"That is not the subject of this meeting." Harry was not convinced. "There is no need to panic. I know what the Headmaster wants, and it has nothing to do with this afternoon. Though on that note, I don't think I need to point out that many people will not understand about the time we spend together."

Harry nodded. "I didn't plan on telling anyone. Not yet." Satisfied, Severus led him to the gargoyle and into Dumbledore's office.

The Headmaster greeted them warmly, as always. "I am glad to see you two arrived together. Please sit. Candy? No? Then I will get right down to it, shall I? Severus, Minerva informed you of the proceedings of the Wizengamot, yes?" At the man's nod, Dumbledore continued. "Then you know what I need from you. I ask that you stay here while I discuss this with Mr. Potter, though."

"As you wish," Severus replied.

"Thank you. Now, Harry, I have a bit of news. Good news, I believe, though for now I ask you to trust me in this." Harry shifted in his seat; clearly Dumbledore had information that he would not enjoy hearing. "I would also like to express how pleased I am that you and Professor Snape have overcome your differences. He is truly the best suited to help you against the Dark Lord, and it is comforting to see you have matured enough to trust him despite his past."

"Uh, thank you, sir," Harry replied. Severus had said this was not about the two of them, so what was Dumbledore getting at?

"Now then, please bear all that in mind. I have spent the weekend, as you know, in an emergency session of the Wizengamot. Our purpose was to hear a request for asylum and assure ourselves that it was safe to grant it."

"Are you sure about this, Albus?" Snape interrupted.

"Of course, Severus. You, and now young Harry, thanks to your teaching, are the only two wizards in this school who could possibly lie to me undetected. I, and the rest of the Wizengamot, am assured that Mr. Nott is neither a spy nor under the Imperius curse."

"Theodore Nott?" Harry asked.

"Yes. It seems he found out about Tom Riddle and has rethought his role in this. I have promised him what protection I can give, but as you know, that is limited due to the Mark. Once the Dark Lord hears of this . . ."

"Of course, Headmaster. Professor Snape can give him a piece of cork-"

"Harry, I must insist that you treat this seriously. I cannot force you to help him, nor would I do so if I were able. But Mr. Nott's only mistake-"

"Headmaster, I meant I'll help him. I'm glad he did this. I told him to look into Riddle the day he and the rest were arrested. And I told him to ask you for protection." Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows nearly disappeared into his even bushier hair.

"Then I owe you an apology, Harry. I had thought you were making some kind of joke. Why did you not tell me of this before?"

Harry shrugged. "Everyone's always trying to protect me. I figured you'd be mad for offering to protect them."

"And the cork?"

"Sev-" Harry caught himself before using the man's name. "Several days ago, Professor Snape made a thing with a cork. So I'd know if he needed me. Do you still have your piece, Professor?"

Severus produced the half-cork, and Harry fished his own piece out of his pocket. "If Professor Snape doesn't mind making another one, that should work fine."

"Give him that one," Severus said. "That was a temporary solution. I will work on something more trustworthy. Since it seems that Hogwarts may host numerous traitors in the future, it would be best to come up with a method that will allow Mr. Potter to know which of us requires his aid. The Dark Lord surely will not make another attempt on my life this weekend."

Harry was not entirely convinced, but kept his concern to himself. Logically, he understood that Voldemort would want to test the Mark when he had a chance of succeeding. He had already failed with Harry and Dumbledore in the castle.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "And Harry, one final thing. I had not intended on asking this, but I underestimated you, it seems. It will be a few days before Mr. Nott joins the student body again. He will surely face suspicion from most students. He may even be in physical danger from students on either side of this fight. I will do what I can to quell such problems, but I fear he will be in dire need of a friend."

"Well, sir, I don't really know him that well . . ." That was mostly true, and what little Harry did know of him, Dark Mark aside, had never led him to like the boy before.

"I would not ask you to befriend someone you may not even like. But I hope you will at least give him a chance and not judge him by what he bears on his arm. And if you do end up disliking him, let him know you find him arrogant or obnoxious or boring."

"That I can promise, sir. And I'm sure my friends would be willing to do the same."

Harry and Severus left the office, Harry to return to his tower, Severus to decide how best to insert the refugee back into his House without endangering him. Severus saw Harry to the Fat Lady's portrait and asked, "Are you so sure about your friends?"

"Sure I am. None of them really dislike you any more, you know. At least, no more than they dislike any other hard teacher."

"As a favor to you?"

"No. Well, maybe at first. Once we got through our . . . stuff . . . with the Pensieve and everything, I guess they decided to give you the benefit of the doubt for my sake. But after all the time we spent in the attic, I think they started to respect you more. They definitely appreciated that you didn't have to teach any of them anything. Not that Ron's going to invite you over for the holidays."

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Severus replied coolly.

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "I'm sure if they hate you it's because you're nasty and horrid now, not because you were nasty and horrid years ago."

"That is certainly fair." Severus smirked. Voices down the hall grew louder, heralding the approach of a group of students. "Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

"Goodnight, Professor." Harry gave him a bright smile before the two parted ways.

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The news of Nott's return was met with unease back in Gryffindor Tower.

"I'll give him a chance," Ron agreed, "but only because Dumbledore says he wasn't lying. But I don't think any of us should let our guard down. Right now he may not want to be a Death Eater, but he did once. Maybe he'll change his mind again."

"He can't," Harry said. "Voldemort would kill him for it. He doesn't forgive people."

"I just hope he knows that," Hermione said. "You have to admit, if someone wanted to get in good with Voldemort, you're the best target."

"Speaking of that, Harry," Ron spoke up. "You haven't been keeping your promise, have you? You aren't supposed to be out in the castle alone."

Harry frowned guiltily. Ron was right, and as much as he wanted to be able to just walk around wherever and whenever he wanted, he knew his friends would worry. He renewed his promise to be careful, and Hermione, to Harry's relief, suggested they all get back to studying.

Once Harry finally finished his Charms work, he decided it was too late to return to Severus's rooms. Plus, he thought Ron might get upset if he ran off after being reminded not to. He supposed he'd have to get into the habit of carrying his invisibility cloak with him just in case.

As it was, the issue of Harry being alone in the halls did not come up for a few days. Monday meant more lessons with Severus and Professor Jones. This time, Severus, Jones and Hermione faced off against Harry. On the other side of the room, Ron was tasked with protecting Luna–who had been permitted to join them but was still a bit behind the rest–from Neville and Ginny.

Harry finished the night physically exhausted. He had managed to defend himself reasonably well throughout the night, even at the end when he had felt his strength waning. Granted, the others must have been feeling the same way, as their spells had a good deal less power behind them as the evening progressed. He lagged behind his friends as they left the practice room, hoping to steal a little time with the Potions Master, but the older man explained that Dumbledore was expecting him, so he settled for trying to get a decent night's sleep after the strenuous workout he had had.

By lunch on Tuesday, Harry could no longer concentrate on anything but getting to spend time with Severus again. He also worried about telling Ron and Hermione about this change in their relationship. It was true that none of his friends bore Severus the kind of animosity they once had, but did that mean they would accept what he had come to mean to Harry?

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Dinner finally over, Harry convinced Ron that going for a walk alone was safe enough if he took the map and his cloak. He made his way quickly to the dungeon and hissed at Salazar. When the archway appeared, Harry quickly stepped through, but stopped short when he discovered Severus had a visitor. With his back to the wall Harry had come through, Nott was unaware of the archway. Severus's eyes flicked toward it, though, and Harry slipped his hand out of the folds of the cloak to give a quick wave before stepping quietly into the corner.

"For now, you will be rooming alone. That will change once I am satisfied that suitable roommates are available," Severus said, not faltering as Harry's disembodied hand waved at him. "I am sure you have received enough platitudes from the Headmaster, so I shall spare you unnecessary sentimentality. But I tell you this as someone who knows better than anyone else that the consequences of your decisions will follow you for the rest of your life. You need not allow a single mistake to dictate your choices forever." Nott said nothing, and Severus continued.

"The Headmaster told you we can protect you from the Dark Lord's punishment, did he not?"

"Yes, Professor. Potter said the same thing when he got us arrested." Nott's tone left little doubt about his dislike for Harry.

Handing him the piece of cork that matched the one Harry had in his pocket, Severus said, "If you feel the Mark burn, invoke the Rejoining Charm on this." Nott looked at it skeptically, but agreed. "It is not my place to explain what form the protection will take, but I am certain you will not like it. Remember that you are Slytherin. Though you may find it distasteful, this is your only means of survival."

"I understand, Professor."

Dismissed, Nott turned and left as the wall once again disappeared. Harry caught sight of the boy's expressionless face and distant eyes and wondered what he would face in the Slytherin dorm tonight. He pushed that thought aside, though, with the realization that he was again alone with Severus. Still invisible, he stepped quietly up to the man and wrapped his arms around him. Severus returned the embrace as if he had seen Harry all along. He stayed there, unmoving, for some time simply enjoying the contact. Then Severus's words came back to him.

"So, I'm distasteful, am I?" Harry shook his head so the cloak fell from his face. The corners of Severus's mouth tipped up slightly. Harry watched as dark eyes roamed his face. This close to Severus, Harry realized how much he had grown over the summer, as he was now only an inch or two shorter than the other man. Severus's eyes finally focused on Harry's mouth, making him decidedly self conscious. He licked his lips nervously, which earned him a blink from Severus, who pulled back slightly but kept his arms firmly in an embrace.

"I thought I made that clear. Though it seems one builds a tolerance with time."

"Lucky for me you're so tolerant, then."

They settled on the couch, both easily taking on the same position they had spent much of Sunday night in.

"What happens if he's in the Slytherin dorms and he needs me?" Harry asked.

"You know where the entrance to the Slytherin common room is?" Severus asked in reply. Harry nodded. "Ideally, you will come to me first. But if that is not possible, and only if you have your cloak, you can enter with the password, 'Cadbury'."

Harry chuckled. "I guess the Headmaster picked that."

"It certainly would not have been my first choice."

"Will he be okay in Slytherin? Do you think someone will try something?" Harry asked.

"I have already spoken to the house. There are enough monitoring charms on the rooms to warn me if anyone uses hostile magic."

"And some of the others would help him, wouldn't they?"

"What makes you assume that? They are Slytherin."

"Well," Harry replied, resting his head on Severus's shoulder. "They aren't all followers of the Dark Lord. And I have it on very good authority that Slytherins can be quite selfless."

"If I discover which Slytherin you are referring to, I will see that he or she is re-sorted immediately."

"Bit late for that." Harry draped his arm across Severus's chest, amazed for a moment that he could do such a thing at all. Their normal silence settled over them, and Harry's thoughts turned to the look in Severus's eyes earlier.

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"Severus?"

Lost in the feeling of the young man draped across him, Severus replied with a simple, "Hmm?"

Severus looked down to see Harry blush. "Were you going to kiss me before?"

He took several minutes to answer, but finally said, "The thought had crossed my mind, yes." He refused to start lying to Harry now, no matter how awkward a question may be.

"But you didn't."

"No."

"Okay," Harry said simply. He grew silent again.

"You're young, Harry. Very young compared to me. And I'm your teacher. This is complicated."

"If I were your age, would you have kissed me?"

Severus pulled Harry close to him, letting the young man know that despite his decision earlier, he valued his presence. Again, he chose complete honesty and replied, "Quite soundly, I imagine. Assuming you did not object." Severus knew his answers were surely leading to more questions as well as new worries.

"I guess I understand. You've a lot more at stake."

"I would argue the opposite is true," Severus said. "If you mean my job here, I suppose that may be an issue. But I gave up guessing how Albus would react to anything long ago. And surely the public at large would assume the worst of me, but they already do, so little would change. You would face similar problems from the press, no doubt."

"I don't care what the newspapers write about me any more. And I don't care what the world thinks of me."

"I know that," he said, placing his hand over the one Harry had resting on his chest. "I worry, though, that my greater experience may lead you to feel you need to take things further with me than you are ready for."

"I'm quite ready to be kissed, I promise."

"I know, but . . ."

"It's complicated," Harry finished for him. Severus felt Harry's breath on his neck in a small sigh. "Nothing's ever simple, is it?"

He knew Harry's questions was rhetorical, but it struck a chord in Severus's thoughts. It was that mutual search for something simple, something quiet and reassuring, that had brought them together. "Harry," he said softly, and when the young man lifted his head up to look at him, he caught his lips with his own. He deepened the kiss as Harry knelt on the couch, wrapping his arms around Severus's neck.

Finally, Harry pulled back, breathless. "Wow."

"To hell with complicated," Severus said.

Harry's green eyes sparkled mischievously as he leaned forward. "Well, that was good, but I'm not sure I'm as soundly kissed as you'd promised."

"Never let it be said that I shrank before a challenge. Especially a challenge made by Harry Potter."

A good while later, Severus took in Harry's blushed cheeks and wide green eyes and decided he liked the look of a soundly-kissed Harry.

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Harry drifted back to Gryffindor Tower in a haze. He had not stayed out too late, so Ron was awake when he got back to his room.

"Was beginning to worry, there," Ron said.

"Oh, sorry. I ended up in the kitchen and Dobby started talking to me. You know how he can be when we don't visit in a while." Harry was smiling so wide that his cheeks started to hurt, but he could not seem to stop.

"Anything good to eat down there?" Ron asked, giving him a curious look.

"Just some leftovers. You didn't miss much." It occurred to Harry that he should at least tell his friend about Nott's return. "Anyway, Professor Snape found me down there and told me Nott's back."

"Any idea what Dumbledore's going to tell everyone?"

"None. Guess we'll find out at lunch."

Ron agreed, and the two prepared for bed, not that Harry expected much sleep–not with the taste of Severus still on his lips. He lay there for an hour, replaying that first kiss–and the many subsequent kisses–over in his head when the rustle of cloth caught his attention. Sitting up and peering out of the curtains around his bed, Harry's eyes widened at the sight of his robe sliding off the trunk and creeping toward the door. Suspicious of an attempt to lure him outside his room, he watched the robe moving across the floor until realization struck. The cork was still in the robe. Sweeping it up off the floor and pulling his invisibility cloak from the trunk, Harry hurried from the room. Once in the hallway, he broke into a run. Voldemort's attacks on Severus had been coming on fairly slowly so far, but he was not sure how long ago the cork had been moving. He decided time was more important than fetching Severus and made right for the common room door.

Once inside the Slytherin dorm, he pulled the cork from his pocket and tried to figure out which room was Nott's. Luckily, it took little time to find the right one, and he pushed the door open quietly. Nott was curled up on the bed, his body shaking. Harry stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Dropping the cloak, he ran around to face the Slytherin.

"Nott?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice low. They were alone in the room, but voices could still carry through the door if someone decided to take a walk down the hallway outside. "Can you hear me?"

Nott opened his eyes and focused, briefly, on Harry. "Potter," was all he said in reply.

Kneeling, Harry grabbed his arm and started pushing up the boy's sleeve. "Listen, when the pain goes away, move your arm away from my hand, okay? I may not be able to." Hoping Nott was aware enough to understand, he took a deep breath and gripped the boy's forearm.

Nott's eyes were closed again, so Harry was greeted by darkness. The pain was intense–far worse than anything Snape had suffered outside of that first attack. Thankfully, it was not as bad as the night Luna had been rescued. As before, the pain stopped within moments of Harry's contact with the Mark. Harry sensed Nott's disorientation as relief flooded him. He rolled over, pulling his arm away from Harry as he moved.

Harry returned to his own body just in time to catch himself from falling sideways. Nott was taking deep breaths in front of him. "All right, Nott?"

"I'll live, I guess."

Sympathizing, Harry asked, "How long was it going on before I got here?"

"About ten minutes," he replied.

Harry blanched. "I'm sorry about that. I'm not sure exactly how long it took me to notice the cork. It was in my robe, and I was already in bed. It's not usually that bad. Normally I get him to stop before he gets that far."

"You felt it?" Nott sat up and looked at Harry in surprise.

Only now realizing his slip, Harry knew there was no getting out of his admission. "I probably shouldn't talk about it, I'm afraid. It's nothing personal, honestly. We're just not sure about a lot of what's going on."

"I guess it's not my place to ask, anyway. I'm hardly in a position to demand answers. I'm still alive, for now." He straightened out his bedclothes, and Harry noticed his hands were still shaking. "I suppose you're keeping Professor Snape alive too."

Harry saw no reason to deny that. Dumbledore trusted Nott, and he knew enough now that there was no point in trying to keep that information a secret. "Yes, ever since the week before school started. The Dark Lord asked him to do something, and he refused."

"Was that when he decided he didn't want to follow the Dark Lord any more?"

That, Harry decided, was too personal for anyone but Severus to answer. "Maybe you should be talking to Professor Snape about that, not me. It's really not my place to say."

"I don't want to talk to him."

"Why not? He's been through it too, after all."

"Listen, Potter, I appreciate what you did for me, but-"

"It's okay, I'll go if you want." Harry stood. He was not going to pretend to understand what the other boy was feeling; respecting his wishes seemed the best course. "He doesn't try twice in one night, by the way. We don't think he knows it's me protecting Snape, so he's testing what he can get away with. This failed, so he probably won't try again unless someone like Dumbledore or Snape leaves the school." Nott just nodded an acknowledgment, so Harry left the room, pulling his cloak about him once again. He would seek out Severus tomorrow morning, he decided, and fill him in on what had happened.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Wow, the past two chapters have gotten a great response. I'm so glad people like how much time I took to get here. When I first started writing this, I didn't even plan on getting into the school year. But as I wrote, it became clear that getting Harry and Snape together was nearly impossible if I was going to hold them to character. Thanks a ton to everyone who's reviewed, and thanks in advance to everyone who reviews in the future!

Aethen

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 23

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Harry caught Severus on his way to breakfast. The Potions Master had just left his rooms and he had to fight to keep his lips to himself. Being out in the hall where anyone could see provided the impetus Harry needed to resist the urge. When Severus caught sight of him, he was graced with a rare smile before the man asked, "Come to escort me to breakfast?"

Harry grinned. "Something like that. But I've got news, too. The Dark Lord tried to get to Nott last night. I wasn't sure how long it was going on before I realized it, so I didn't want to take the time coming here first. I would have come back after, but it was late, and I had the feeling Nott didn't want any more attention as it was."

"I would have been no aid at all; going there directly sounds best. How bad was it?" Severus asked as the two walked to the Great Hall.

"Not nearly as bad as that first time with you, but worse than anything since. I think it got that bad because I took so long to get to him."

"That's likely. He will not commit himself as fully as he did when he first tried to kill me. Not when he risks having it turned back on him. You explained that the Dark Lord will probably not try again without reason?"

"Yeah. I don't know if he trusted me or not, but I told him." They walked in silence for a few moments before Harry spoke again. "Did you talk to him at all about yourself? He asked me about when you decided to stop following the Dark Lord. I told him it wasn't my place to say, but I have a feeling he needs to talk to someone who understands. He said he didn't want to talk to you, but I suppose he was just saying that. Anyway, I figure you're probably the best person to help him out."

"I'll do what I can for him," Severus replied. "Though I am not entirely sure he trusts me. He certainly showed mixed reactions to me last night."

"He probably doesn't know who to trust at this point," Harry pointed out.

They were nearing the Great Hall and no longer alone, so the Potions Master simply grunted a response. Before they parted company, Severus stopped Harry and handed him half a quill, split down the center. He looked around to be sure no one was watching and showed Harry the matching half he kept in his robe. Harry nodded in understanding and tucked the feather in the same pocket as the bit of cork.

In the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione were already seated, and Ron moved over to give him room to sit at the end of the table. Hermione had a book open in front of her and was oblivious to the rest of the room.

"Everything okay, mate?" Ron asked. "You came in with Snape, didn't you?"

"Yes, Ron," Harry said, a bit annoyed. "He isn't out to torment me anymore, you know. Just because we came in together doesn't mean I was getting detention for breathing his air."

Ron held up his hands in defense. "Hey, wait, I didn't say that, did I? I meant was everything okay with You-Know-Who and all that. Calm down."

Sheepishly, Harry apologized and explained about the attack on Nott the night before. Ron forgave him for not waking him up once Harry explained that he did not know if he had much time, as well as reassuring him that he had taken the cloak. "So I went down to tell Professor Snape this morning."

"You've been spending a lot of time with Professor Snape lately, haven't you?"

"Uh, well," Harry felt his face flush. He looked around to see if anyone else had heard Ron's comment. At the end of the table, they were all but alone, outside of Hermione who had shut out the world in favor of her textbook. "I guess. I can't be too far away if Voldemort tries something, you know. Plus all the extra training. And potions never was my best subject, so I might as well get whatever help I can now that we don't hate each other. And he's still giving me help with Occlumency." The last was not true, as Snape had already told him he had taught him as much as he knew. But of everything, he knew that was a reason than neither Ron nor Hermione would question. They knew nothing about what he was learning, so they never needed details.

"Right," Ron said, smirking. "You realize I have five older brothers, right? I may not be the smartest guy in school, but I'm not the dumbest either."

"What do you mean?" Harry tried to sound confused and hoped he was convincing.

"With the amount of teasing that goes on in my house, do you really think we can't spot someone with a crush from a mile away? Don't worry. I'm not going to tease _you_ about it. Well, not in public. But Snape's pretty sharp, and he's going to figure it out eventually."

For a brief moment, Harry considered asking Ron if nibbling on the man's bottom lip was a giveaway, but decided against it. Sure, Ron's reaction would be worth seeing, but until he discussed it with Severus, he was going to keep his secret.

"I'll try to control myself," Harry said with a wry grin.

"Seriously," Ron said. "I mean, I know Snape's a lot better than he used to be. But sometimes guys get freaked out about stuff like this. Mum's cousin, Stu, the one Ginny told you about. He worked with a guy once who knew all about him and didn't care. Or didn't seem to. Then one day someone, just as a joke, said that maybe Stu liked this guy. After that, he wouldn't even go in the same room with Stu if he could help it. It seems weird to say it, but I know you're thinking of Snape like a friend. Obviously, you've got pretty good taste in friends." Ron grinned. "And there's that stuff between you two that you can't tell us about, so even if I don't really get it, I guess you do. Anyway, if he gets all freaked out and acts like a jerk again, I'll have to kill him, and I don't want to end up in Azkaban."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Ron," Harry replied. "But I appreciate you saying it. It's great knowing you're okay with all this."

Now Ron grew embarrassed. "Well, you know how girls like gay guys. So I figure once word gets out that my best friend's gay, they'll all think I'm sensitive and stuff. They'll be lining up for a piece of me."

Harry laughed and the two returned their attention to their waiting breakfast.

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In potions class, Severus paired Ron with Nott. Before they headed to their cauldrons, Harry reminded Ron to give him the benefit of the doubt. Ron promised not to start anything with the other boy and to avoid talking about the Dark Mark or Voldemort. As far as Harry could tell from across the room, the two seemed to work well enough together. At least there were no arguments.

After classes finished, Harry rushed through his homework. He knew Severus was meeting with Nott after dinner, so he planned on giving them some time before heading to the dungeons himself. When he finally arrived at the bust of Salazar, he asked in Parseltongue, "Is Professor Snape alone?"

The bust hissed back in the negative, and Harry chose to wait in the hall until Nott left. It was getting late, which Harry took as a good sign. If they had been talking for that long, surely it had been constructive.

Finally, the wall opened and Nott left, looking much as he had the previous night when Harry saw him leave the rooms. Harry rushed into the suite before the door could solidify and pulled off his cloak.

"I waited outside for you to finish with Nott," Harry said, stepping close to Severus. "So, did you two talk?"

"I do not believe Mr. Nott would want me discussing this with anyone else."

"Fair enough," Harry replied. It really was none of his business. He wrapped his arms around Severus and leaned in close. The older man stood stiffly, not responding to Harry's embrace. "Is everything okay, Severus?"

"I told you, I do not wish to discuss it." He pulled himself from Harry's arms and walked to the table.

"Okay," Harry said, hurt but trying to be understanding. "I just-"

"It is approaching curfew. You should not be out of your tower. Do not force me to take points from Gryffindor."

Harry had heard enough serious threats from the man to tell that was not a joke. Taken aback, he felt his temper rise. _He sure didn't mind me being out past curfew last night. _ He opened his mouth to say as much, but realized that arguing would likely result in either points lost or detention. Either way, he did not want to have to explain that to Ron and Hermione. Cloak in hand, he took a deep breath and replied. "Of course, _Professor_. I'm sorry to have bothered you." Turning on his heel, he stormed out of the room.

The following day in potions class, Ron was again placed with Nott. Harry, for his part, did nothing to show he was upset at Severus. He did his work as he had done all term and answered any questions as well he could. He avoided looking at the other man, though, whenever possible. Despite the long history between them, there was something about being dismissed in that manner that hurt Harry more than he wanted to admit.

That night the group had another training session. Harry was pitted against both Jones and Severus as well as Hermione and this time Neville, as well. He pushed his anger down and focused on the task at hand. As in the previous session, he was successful in avoiding most of the attacks all night. As for Severus, Harry paid him the same respect he gave Professor Jones. When the evening ended, he left with his friends, though normally he would have stayed back to share a few private words with the Potions Master.

The next day was much the same. Harry had decided that as Severus–no, Professor Snape–was going to treat him like a student, he would in turn be treated like a professor. Snape made no effort to talk to Harry alone. Ron noted the distance between Harry and Snape, but Harry hid the underlying tension. Ron made a comment about Harry doing a good job being less obvious and left it at that.

In the library before dinner, the group of friends sat, alternately doing bits of homework and chatting quietly. Harry was a bit surprised when Ron noticed Nott enter and waved the boy to their table. "Nott, have you done potions homework yet?"

"I was just going to do it now," the boy replied, eyeing the other students warily.

"Want to do it with us?" Ron asked, then turned to his friends. "He's pretty good with that stuff. Must be a Slytherin thing."

Nott agreed and within a half hour they had worked out the questions assigned to them. Though he was in no mood to talk to anyone, Harry forced himself to be civil to the boy. He was mad at Severus, after all, and taking it out on Nott would be unfair, and certainly misinterpreted as distrust on his part. Nott still seemed a bit uneasy around them, but they all did their best to treat him like they would anyone else. He gave them a stiff thank you when he got up to leave.

"No problem," Ron said. "Any time you want to work with us, just come on over."

"That was nice of you," Luna remarked. "I don't think he has many friends left."

"I don't think so either," Ron agreed. "I kind of got that feeling when we were working together in potions class. It's like he's just waiting for someone to accuse him of something. Or attack him."

"At least now he knows we won't," Neville said.

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Three days after Harry had been expelled from Severus's rooms, the professor asked him to stay behind after the class left. Harry packed up his books but waited at his desk as the students filed out.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry kept his voice even.

"I simply wanted to let you know I will be in my chambers after dinner."

_ That was it?_ "Okay, Professor," Harry replied, knowing that with the room empty, he could be using the man's given name. "If Voldemort tries anything, I'll go there directly when you alert me."

That response got Snape's attention. "I meant you can come see me if you'd like. I doubt the Dark Lord will try anything."

Harry wondered if the other man truly had no idea Harry was mad, or if he was pretending not to to avoid a fight. He suspected the latter. "I think I'm better off in Gryffindor Tower, Professor. I'm used to being made to feel like dirt in the halls and here in the classroom, but unless you or Nott are in danger, I'd rather not be down here just to get insulted."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Snape crossed his arms across his chest defensively, signally to Harry that he certainly did know why Harry was upset. Harry refused to let him get away with it.

"Yes, you do. Taking points from Gryffindor? You couldn't just tell me you wanted to be alone, or you didn't want to talk about it?"

"I am still a professor, here, and I have responsibilities. I had thought you understood that."

"That _I_ understood? I understand that just fine." _How can he say I'm at fault?_ "If you want to take points off because I didn't do my homework, I can deal with that. If you have to give me detention for being late, I can handle that, too. I don't expect you to turn a blind eye if I do something to deserve punishment. But the other night had nothing to do with that. It had to do with you humiliating me because you can."

"Then you took the child's way out," Snape accused. "If you felt that way, you should have said something then."

"No, I couldn't. You made it very clear, _Professor_, that I was not welcome to speak at all. Ron and Hermione are prefects. They'd have known you took points away from me last night and would have asked why. What did you expect me to say to them?"

The Potions Master stood at his desk with no answer forthcoming. After several heartbeats, Harry turned and left the room.

He knew his friends were at the library, so Harry chose to return to Gryffindor alone, where he stayed until dinner. He was torn between staying in the dorm and going down to the Great Hall. He was neither hungry nor in want of company. But Severus had all but called him a child, and he refused to be caught pouting.

Not that he ate much at dinner. And though he tried to keep his tone cheerful, he did not engage in conversation and gave short replies to direct questions. When Ron asked him if something was wrong, he explained he was tired, but feeling fine.

At the end of the meal, Harry pushed his plate away. With a small pop a folded parchment appeared in front of him and fell where his plate had just been. "Harry," it read. "Please come to my chambers after dinner. Severus." Harry folded the paper and tucked it away before anyone noticed. He left the hall without looking back at the head table or the Potions Master still seated there.

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Harry fetched his invisibility cloak and told Ron that Snape wanted to hold another Occlumency lesson, then returned again to the dungeon. Outside the man's rooms, Harry tapped his wand on the alarm stone rather than alerting Salazar to his presence. Even if the statue still let him in, Harry wanted to make the point to Snape. If this was how he wanted things, this is how they would be.

The archway shimmered into sight and Harry removed his cloak as he stepped into the room. He stopped just far enough inside to allow the wall to reform. Severus stood across the room. "Harry . . . I wasn't sure if you would respond to my invitation."

"I wasn't aware I had a choice, Professor."

Severus sighed heavily. "Of course you had a choice."

"Then I can leave?" Harry asked, his voice neutral. He was not sure if he wanted to leave, but knowing whether or not he had the choice was important.

"Yes." The man's voice sounded tired. He looked tired, too, Harry noticed. He hadn't looked that tired even when Harry had entered moments before, and he realized Severus had lowered his guard. "But please hear me out first." Harry did not turn around, and Severus came closer until they were nearly touching. "I understand why you're upset. I do not blame you. But I hope you believe that I did not intend to hurt you or humiliate you. I have done that far, far too many times already. This time, though, it did not occur to me what my words meant. I was the one who abused my position, and I have no right to do that."

"I just need to know that you think of me as an equal. I meant what I said before giving me detention me in the classroom. That's different. But I can't come here anymore if you're going to be Severus sometimes and Professor Snape others."

"And you shouldn't have to worry about that," Severus replied. He caught Harry's hand in his own and held it gently. "If you will forgive me, I promise never to do that again."

Harry replied by again offering the embrace that had been refused three nights before. This time, it was accepted as Severus's strong arms held him close. He felt secure, as if some hurdle had been overcome and a new understanding reached.

Back on the couch, Severus's fingers gently ran through Harry's hair, up and down the back of his neck as he laid his cheek against the man's chest. "You were half right about Theodore," Severus said softly. "He does need to talk to someone, but I'm not the right choice."

"Why not?" Harry was enjoying the physical contact far too much to move from where he was. Even when he had been mad at Severus, he had missed the contact.

"He blames me," Severus replied. "I could have prevented his Marking, but I did nothing, and now his life is in danger and he will forever be branded as a Death Eater."

"What did you say to him?"

"What could I tell him? I explained that anything I did to stop the Marking would have revealed me as a traitor, and at the time we did not know you could protect me."

Harry lifted his head to catch Severus's eyes. "That's not why you let the Markings go on."

"I know that, but if he did not go to the Dark Lord willingly, it is better that he thinks I was too weak to interfere than know that I believed he desired this."

"He seemed to want it at the time. The Dark Lord certainly thought he did."

"Will you talk to him? It doesn't matter if he hates me or not, but he needs to share this burden."

"I'll try, but Ron may be a better choice. He and Nott seem to be getting along okay. I'm sure you planned on that, though."

"Pairing him with you would have been a tempting target for any supporters of the Dark Lord in the class. Weasley seemed a safer partner for him. I am gratified that decision paid off. I'll leave him to you and your friends then, for now."

"We're going to start a club, soon. All the Hogwarts students that the Dark Lord wants to kill. With Nott, we've enough to start our own Quidditch Team and keep an alternate on the bench." Severus responded with a throaty chuckle and Harry returned his head to its place on the man's chest.

"Is that why you were upset the other day?"

"Yes," Severus replied. "I truly am sorry for what I said to you. I'm not used to anyone caring that I am upset. Being left alone has become standard fare; I don't normally need to tell anyone I'm not in the mood to talk about something."

"I know," Harry said. "And I forgive you." He raised his head again and pressed a soft kiss to Severus's lips. He thrilled at the touch. It was the first time he had instigated a kiss with the man, and the knowledge that he could do that, without a single doubt that it would be returned, enjoyed, even desired, was heady indeed.

Once they had settled back into their customary position, Severus's lips brushing Harry's neck periodically to send shivers down his spine, the Potions Master spoke again. "I had nearly forgotten. I have worked out a better method for Nott and me to contact you should we need your help. It is not quite ready, but should be soon."

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked, wondering what form it would take. Severus summoned a small box over and opened it so Harry could see. Inside was a simple looking band of flat metal.

"The charms are working, but I am not satisfied with its appearance," Severus explained.

Plucking it from the box, Harry examined it. The bracelet appeared to be made of silver, polished brightly, a few centimeters wide. "What's wrong with it?"

"It is far too reminiscent of shackles as it currently exists. It is bad enough you are chained to the Dark Lord, as well as Nott and me, in a rhetorical sense. You do not need such a physical symbol of that."

"Don't be silly. It's lovely already. How does it work?" Without letting Severus complain again that it was not ready to be worn, he slipped the band on. It shrank slightly to fit comfortably on his wrist without the risk of it falling off. Suddenly, he felt a tingling in his arm–nothing painful, but certainly enough to get his attention or even wake him up.

"Look at the band now," Severus told him. Harry pushed his sleeve back to see the name "Severus Snape" etched into the surface. Beside the name, an arrow pointed back to Harry and through him to where Severus sat at Harry's back. Harry stretched his arm out and swept it back and forth, watching as the arrow moved to stay fixed on Severus's position.

"That's brilliant," Harry said, beaming.

"It will do the same for Nott. He will be given a smaller item to wear that will be bound to this one. I thought I would let him choose the form, as it need not have enough surface to display a name." Harry nodded in response, his fingers tracing the words as they faded, leaving an unblemished silver surface.

"What's yours look like?" Harry asked. Severus cast another summoning charm and opened his palm to show a plain silver ring. The man slipped it over his middle finger.

"I should start wearing this now, if you insist on taking the bracelet with you. I took some liberty with this particular ring. Concentrate on the bracelet. Focus on my name at the same time. Harry obeyed, and Severus held his hand out, palm up, to show him the underside of the ring. Small letters on the ring spelled out "Harry," and a tiny arrow pointed at him. "I spelled both items to work one-way. My ring will not show me where you are unless you activate your bracelet, and vice versa. The exception is if the target is unable to sense the spell. Should I use my ring to contact you, it will instead show me your whereabouts if you are unconscious. Anything more active between the two pieces can be dangerous as they would be detected by any device that detects communication spells."

Harry was overwhelmed. He had long since realized that Severus would never allow any harm to come to him, but now he had gone out of his way to make sure he would always have a way to call for help.

"Also," Severus continued, "this allows us some privacy. You do not have to feel as if I am keeping tabs on your whereabouts. For now, they are only useful in emergencies." Harry nodded, understanding that they both had moments when they did not want to be found unless it was necessary.

"It's perfect, Severus. Thank you."

Placing a soft kiss on Harry's neck, Severus said, "You're doing it again. I should be thanking you for being willing to wear it. This it not a gift without cost to you."

"True, but the same could be said for you. You didn't make it just so I could help you, after all," Harry pointed out. "You're being nice again."

"Nonsense," Severus replied, though the word was muffled as he was once again nibbling at Harry's collarbone.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N** Terribly, terribly sorry for the long delay in getting this chapter done. Events conspired to keep me away from the computer. Holidays, sickness, family, and all that rubbish. However, I'm back, and hopefully I'll be able to maintain my old writing habits once again. Thanks again for everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and thanks for your patience with this one.

Aethen

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 24

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Harry dodged an incoming blasting curse and responded with a jinx of his own before ducking into a doorway. He was still a bit surprised that his plan had worked. At the far end of the hallway, Hermione, Neville and Ginny were trying to sort out the locking spell he had put on the only door leading out of the corridor. Meanwhile, Professor Jones, Luna, and Ron were alternately deflecting Harry's spells and responding with their own. Severus stood in the middle of the group, focusing all his attention on taking the offensive against Harry.

Training had taken another turn over the past week. Harry was now pitted against the rest. Severus generally acted the part of Voldemort, Harry's target, while the rest guarded him. The arrangement served two purposes. Voldemort would certainly be protected by Death Eaters under orders to defend their Lord with their lives, and Harry's friends needed to learn to defend Harry while he was preoccupied with the Dark Lord and unable to defend himself.

Risking a quick look down the hall, Harry saw that the whole group had turned its attention to the door. It looked like they were all going to cast an opening charm at once. With Severus in their group, they had the advantage here in the dungeon, and Harry doubted he would have another opportunity to trap them if they succeeded. He tossed a Stinging Hex at the group, which Professor Jones easily deflected, watching anxiously for them to risk a group spell. His guess proved correct when they all raised their wands and Hermione nodded her head as a cue.

"_Alohomora,_" all seven chanted at once.

"_Stupefy_," Harry said at the same time. Distracted by their own spell, the group had no time to react to Harry's. Sparks and light shot out from the protective shield they had erected over themselves, but Harry's spell won through. As one, they collapsed in a pile. Not a little shocked at his success, he trotted over to them and restored them, one by one, to consciousness.

"Well done, Mr. Potter," Professor Jones said as they sorted themselves out. Harry smiled at the compliment as Ron and Neville jostled him with slaps on his back. Harry turned his eyes to Severus and was greeted with a subtle stirring of the man's mouth. So small few would have noticed it, in Harry's mind, the Potions Master was beaming at him.

"The door's still locked," Hermione said, examining the handle closely. "I thought we'd cast the spell before Harry got us."

"We did," Severus replied. His wand played over the latch, and he turned to Harry. "What charm did you use on this?"

Harry grinned again and confessed to having tried out one of the spells Flitwick had secured the trapdoor at Honeydukes with.

"Our spell should have had enough power to open it, though _Alohomora_ is not the normal counter-charm." Severus muttered a spell under his breath and twitched his wand at the door. The latch glowed briefly then faded, still locked. Raising an eyebrow at Harry that the young man could not quite decipher, he tried again, though this time he was clearly concentrating more intently on the handle. The latch lit up brighter and Severus remained focused on it until the door swung open silently. "I believe tonight's lessons are over," Severus said, glancing at Professor Jones, who nodded in agreement.

"Yes, well done, all of you. Harry may have gotten the best of us," she added good-naturedly, "but you all handled your tasks admirably."

Hopelessly lost from the chase, the students and Jones needed Severus to guide them back to the potions classroom. Jones wished them a good night, and Harry, self-consciously playing the role of, well, someone who was not yearning for a good night kiss from Severus, turned with his friends to leave. Pleasantly, he was stopped by Severus's request that he remain behind. When Neville favored him with a sympathetic look, he responded with what he hoped was a vague mix of worry and annoyance.

Severus closed the door and asked, "You have your cloak?" Harry smiled and nodded, pulling the shimmering cloth from where it had been stuffed in his bag beneath his books. He knew the drill. Severus had a firm rule against any kind of familiarity outside of his suite. For his part, Harry did not mind. The only other opportunities they had to be alone were generally in the potions classroom, and it was close enough to the private rooms to matter little. Harry appreciated the convenience of the boundary. Even with Severus no longer a spy, both had a part to play in public, and Severus's rule kept any haziness between their roles and their true selves at bay. He suspected Severus was still feeling guilty about inadvertently hurting him a few weeks prior, and "Professor Snape" never entered the rooms with Harry. It was always Severus. So, as had become common in the past few weeks, Harry slipped, invisible, through the archway as Severus led the way.

"Tea?" The older man asked as he headed into the kitchen, not needing to wait for Harry to reappear to know he was in the room.

"No, thanks." Harry tossed his cloak over the back of a chair and joined Severus, greeting him with a soft kiss. "I didn't think you'd invite me back tonight. You've been looking so tired lately. Up late pickling kittens or something?"

Severus chuckled at the remark and took his tea to the couch. "Up late trying to teach advanced magic to an irreverent squib with the brains of a pickled kitten, actually."

"Oh no," Harry said, settling beside him. "You can't blame it on me. We haven't been practicing that late, and it's only three nights a week." He suddenly grew serious, and suspicious. "You haven't been spying, have you?"

"Of course not. I am quite useless in that regard now, thanks to you and Miss Lovegood. And I have already promised you I would not leave the grounds without your knowledge."

Harry nodded, trusting Severus's word. "Then what is it?"

"I told you, it's the training sessions. They are hardly beyond my capacity, but even three nights a week they are draining." He sipped his tea and looked at Harry suspiciously. "Surely you are feeling the same way. Your friends certainly are. Though now that I think of it, you do not display the same signs of fatigue they do."

"Why would I? We don't do _that _ much running around."

"I'm speaking of magical exertion, not physical." His eyes narrowed a bit. "How is it that you do not feel tired after tonight's activities? Harry, if you have been taking some kind of energy potion . . . "

"I haven't!" Harry's first instinct was to be offended at the accusation. Such potions were generally both dangerous and addictive. But the look of concern in Severus's eyes caused him only to want to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about. Why would doing magic make me tired?"

"You are expending energy. Surely you realize that magical power comes from the wizard casting the spell. The more powerful the spell, the greater the cost."

"Maybe I just haven't been casting very powerful spells."

"Not only did you get your _Stupefy _ spell through the shield Weasley had constructed, you knocked out all of us with a single cast. That alone would have left many wizards too unsteady to walk. Not only that, but your locking charm . . ." Severus trailed off, still talking but too low for Harry to hear.

"What was that about the locking charm?" Harry asked.

"I said," Severus replied, staring stubbornly at his tea, "that my first attempt to dispel the charm was too weak and failed."

Harry blinked. "Too weak? But you used the counter-charm for it, didn't you? How can that be too weak?"

"They can be. It is almost never an issue, as counter-spells are designed specifically to overcome a single spell. They target known weaknesses in the spell, so they only have to be strong enough to break the weakest part. That usually means that almost no effort is needed to use them. That _Alohomora_ failed is not entirely unusual, as it is a general opening spell and would have had to break through the spell directly. Still, the charm you used would not normally have lasted against our group work. Nor does it normally repel the counter-spell. While it may not have been a complex piece of magic, it was stronger than most wizards would have managed in a situation like that."

He caught Harry's gaze and held it. "You are far more powerful than I ever realized. Perhaps we never knew because you lacked the skill to use that power. I have only known one other wizard who could defeat a half dozen wizards and show no sign of weakening."

Knowing who Severus meant, Harry shivered. "I hate when people compare me to him."

"I know you do, and so do I. But in this case I find the similarity singularly comforting."

Pleased by the compliment but still unnerved by the underlying importance of his own power, Harry summoned a textbook from the shelf as a silent request to change the subject. Severus said no more about it, and Harry lifted the man's arm and draped it across his own shoulders as he moved closer to him. The pair slipped again into silence as Harry started on his homework.

An hour or so later, Severus's fingers slipped through Harry's hair, a signal that he was about to send Harry back to his dormitory. Harry closed his book and paused, sensing more than the usual good night in the man's eyes.

"Regarding what I said about not leaving the school without telling you," Severus said, "my morning classes will be canceled tomorrow, and the afternoon as well if necessary."

Harry resisted the urge to protest. Acting childish would accomplish nothing. "Where are you going?"

"Slovakia. The Order has word that Karkaroff wishes to speak to me."

"Karkaroff? What does he want?"

"We do not know anything for certain. It's unclear if he knows of my current situation. He must know that I work for the Order, but he may not be aware that I am no longer in the Dark Lord's favor."

"Do you trust him?"

Severus chuckled softly. "I don't trust anyone. Well, at most two people. But that is not the issue. He may be a great asset if he is willing to side with us. His knowledge of the Dark Arts surpasses mine, and that is no small thing." Harry sighed and laid his head on Severus's chest. As the only real practitioner of Dark Arts that the Order had, Severus's expertise was a limiting factor in anticipating and fighting Voldemort's attacks. Karkaroff's aid could be a deciding factor in the war, and he knew that the Order would risk whatever was necessary to gain his help.

"It may not even be Karkaroff, though," Harry pointed out. "Do we know for sure it's him?"

"His letter made references to some work he and I did together in the last war. It is possible that we are dealing with an impostor, but I am as satisfied of his identity as I likely can be without meeting him face to face."

"Can't someone else go?"

"He will only meet with me."

With a small sigh, Harry gave in and accepted that Severus would again have to put himself in danger. "Are you worried?"

"No," Severus said simply. "I shall be wearing my ring."

"Now you're teasing."

"I'm not."

Harry looked up to see the speculative gaze of Severus on him. Smiling, he caught the man's lips with his own and after a moment pulled back. "That may be the greatest compliment you've ever given me, you know."

Severus smirked. "It is probably the only compliment I have ever given you."

Harry laughed. "True."

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Sleep came in jagged, broken bits. As the dull glow of dawn heralded the coming day, Harry woke again, gasping and terrified. He had no memory of the dream that had left him in a state of panic, but he had a good idea of who it had been about. Ron came over to his bed and touched him gingerly, as if afraid Harry might attack him or bolt for the door.

"You okay?"

Harry blinked a few times at his friend before coming fully to consciousness. "Yeah, sorry. Just a bad dream."

"Think you should talk to Dumbledore?" Ron asked, no doubt thinking back to the visions of last year.

"I don't think it was Voldemort," Harry replied, though the words sounded unconvincing as he spoke them. Severus had planned on leaving before daybreak. Had he been captured? Was Voldemort sending him visions of the Potions Master's fate to torment him? "I'm going to check in on him, just to be sure." Ron looked worried, but agreed that it was the only way to be sure Harry was not under attack.

Cautiously, and terrified of what he might see, Harry slipped into Voldemort's mind.

_ The book closed before he could make out any of the writing, but he caught a glimpse of unfamiliar characters before the moldy leather cover shut. The dried, scaley, husk of his right hand took up a familiar looking wand and traced a glowing figure over the book. Its cover flashed with the same symbol, then both book and sigil faded from sight. _

Harry opened his eyes again in Gryffindor Tower. "He was reading some book. I didn't feel anything too bad."

"Just a bad dream, then," Ron said, relieved. While practicing with the scar-bond, Harry had seen Voldemort reading any number of indecipherable manuscripts and scrolls. The might of the Dark Lord was gained through knowledge as much as strength, and Voldemort intended to gain as much as he could. That Voldemort was spending his time with something as mundane as reading was reassuring and suggested that he had not been sending Harry any dreams. "I'm going to try to get some more sleep before breakfast then." Harry agreed he would try too, but doubted the morning would be any more restful than the night had been.

At breakfast, the news of Severus's absence was met with the expected good humor. Ron gave him a knowing look, but Harry waved off questions as he watched the Slytherin table for their reaction. If any spies were reporting back to Voldemort, they would have orders to let him know when the professor was away. Dumbledore did not give any details, of course, but even before his betrayal, the man rarely missed a single class. No one Harry watched reacted oddly, though, and he hoped that indicated that there were no spies at all. Logic told him, though, that any spy would be far too good an actor to betray themselves.

Ron finally got his attention as he leaned over his plate and whispered, "A bit worried last night, then?"

"Not now," Harry replied. Severus's whereabouts, and Harry's own worry, were not topics he wanted to discuss surrounded by his fellow students. It caught Hermione's attention, though, and she gave Harry a look that told him that answers would be had. They left the Great Hall before most had finished breakfast and found a quiet alcove.

"You knew he was going to be gone?" Ron asked.

"He told me last night when he had me stay after our lessons, just in case." They knew about the charmed bracelet he wore. "He's gone to meet Karkaroff somewhere. Hopefully he'll be back before lunch, but who knows?" Harry sighed with concern.

"Is there something you're not telling us about Professor Snape?" Hermione asked. Harry's head snapped up in surprise. Now was not the time to get into everything he was not telling them about Severus.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You seem more worried than you should be. Do you think it's a trap? Did you see something from Voldemort?"

Harry relaxed a little, relieved that she had not quite guessed the problem. "No, I didn't. Actually, Voldemort probably didn't know anything about it last night. He may find out, though, now that Dumbledore announced that he was away. If there's a spy in the school, they're going to report back about it." He explained about his nightmare and Ron's concerns, and described how Voldemort did not seem to be up to anything unusual at the time.

"Just have to hope for the best, then," Ron pointed out.

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Lunch came and went with no sign of Severus. Harry's only comfort came from the silence of his bracelet. If he heard nothing by dinner, he decided, he would activate the charm and see what happened. For now, though, he had only his trust in Severus's skills as a spy and wizard.

With Potions class canceled for the afternoon, Hermione hurried off to the library once again and Ron and Harry loitered in the common room. Harry fidgeted with his bracelet, and it did not take long for Ron to notice.

Keeping his voice low to avoid eavesdroppers, Ron said, "You're more worried than you want to admit."

"Of course I'm worried," Harry replied. "I don't want anyone to get caught by Voldemort. You know that."

"I do, but you keep trying to look like you're not freaking out, even though you are. You've really got to get over this crush, you know."

Harry blushed. He had hoped Ron had forgotten about their discussion from last week. He certainly thought he had been more circumspect. But Ron knew him better than anyone else, except maybe Hermione. And she was too preoccupied with the Dark Mark research to notice anything. Harry was about to assure Ron that nothing was going on when a feeling of deja vu came over him. The past few years had seen him burying his true feelings and lying to his friends and himself about them. He was no longer content to live that way.

"It's not just a crush, Ron. It's more than that." He stared at his hands, not wanting to meet his friend's gaze. Ron had been supportive so far, but was there a limit to how much he wanted to hear?

"Well, I'm sure you feel that way, Harry," Ron said patiently. "And I'm not about to tell you what you feel. But you're only going to drive yourself crazy if you can't move on. I guess it's not easy, but if I had a thing for Lavender and found out she was a lesbian, I'd be crazy if I didn't try to forget her."

"This is different, though." Harry looked up and grinned. He knew he should not say anything without Severus's okay–it was as much Severus's secret as his own, after all–but somehow he never got around to asking the man about telling his friends. "What if you had a thing for Lavender, and knew she was straight? And had a thing for you, too?"

"That's not the point, is it?" Ron argued, then his eyes grew wide. "Is it the point? Harry?"

Harry had to laugh at his friend's expression. "Keep your voice down, will you?" he said. "And yes, it is the point. Nothing's happened between us. Nothing much, at least. But it's not quite the lost cause you've assumed it to be."

Ron stared at him for a few minutes. "So Snape's . . ." He looked around the common room again for eavesdroppers. "He's gay?"

"Yes, but no one really knows. I guess the teachers do, but probably none of the students." He knew that swearing Ron to secrecy was unnecessary. His friend would never betray him.

"And he knows about you?" Ron asked.

"Well, he figured it out when he came into his room this summer and I was waiting for him naked in bed," Harry said seriously. Ron's face alternately went pale then bright red. "Harry!" Now the few Gryffindors still in the room took notice, looking over at the pair in surprise at Ron's exclamation. Harry laughed.

"I'm joking! I'm joking! He told me about himself first, actually. It was a part of all the problems I had with him last year and the beginning of the summer."

"So that's what you couldn't tell us about?"

"Some of it, yeah. The rest had to do with how my father treated him when they were in school. He was pretty horrible to Severus, partly because he was gay, but mostly because he could be, I guess. Anyway, once everyone between us was out in the open, we got past it all. You know most of the rest. We started getting along better, then we sort of became friends. Then right around when Nott came back . . ." Ron waved his arms protectively in front of himself.

"That's fine! I don't need to know."

Harry laughed again at his friend's antics. "I told you, nothing's really happened. We just spend time together. I finished my Occlumency lessons during the summer, actually. So lately they've just been an excuse. He's there if I need him, and I'm there if he needs me."

"Well, I guess I can't argue with that. But . . ." Ron frowned. "Listen, mate. You know I don't hate Snape any more, right? But you're my best friend and I'm probably never going to think anyone's good enough for you, so let's get that out of the way right off." Harry chuckled. "You're pretty much the only thing keeping him alive right now, aren't you? What happens when we beat You-Know-Who and that Dark Mark goes back to being just an ugly tattoo?"

Harry reminded himself that his friend was just looking out for him and managed not to storm off. Calmer, he responded, "Well, first, he knows I'd protect him even if he didn't say he cared about me. I'm doing the same for Nott, after all. And I've told him and Dumbledore that I'll help anyone who wants to get away from Voldemort. Second . . . I just don't think he will."

"But you're not sure?"

"No, I suppose not. But who knows what's going to happen tomorrow? I don't know who I'm going to be once all of this is over. How can I expect him to be there when I may not come out of all this unchanged? But he's not planning on using me for protection and running off as soon as he doesn't need me. I'm sure of that much." When Ron said nothing, Harry asked, "Are you okay with this?"

"I guess. If nothing's really happened, there's nothing to be okay with, right? Let's just leave it at that for now."

Grinning and relieved, Harry agreed, and the pair decided to search out Hermione and see how her research was progressing.

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They found Hermione but never had a chance to ask her about her studies. Moments after entering the research room, Harry felt his wrist and arm started to tingle, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest as the name "Severus" floated across the silver band he wore. Not wasting a moment, he sped off to the Headmaster's office, Ron and Hermione following closely behind.

The gargoyle moved before Harry realized he did not know the password, and he nearly bowled over Dumbledore as he stepped out of the alcove.

"Is something wrong, my boy?" the Headmaster asked.

"Severus," Harry said, panting. "My bracelet. He needs me."

"Oh dear. Well, no need to panic, children. Has it just started?" Harry, still breathless, nodded. Dumbledore sent a streak of silver light through a wall and ushered them into his office. Harry was about to demand that they do something immediately when a familiar looking cat dashed into the office, leapt into the air, and transformed into Professor McGonagall.

"What is it, Albus, that demanded such haste? Is it Severus?" she asked once she was in human form again.

"It appears so. He had activated the ring he uses to alert Harry if he is under the Dark Lord's attack. I need you to go to Slovakia immediately and bring Severus back. Karkaroff as well, if he too needs our aid."

"Of course. You can portkey me to the meeting place?"

"I'm going too!" Harry insisted. "If he's been moved you won't be able to find him. My bracelet will point to him."

"Mr. Potter, I realize-" McGonagall said.

"He's dying," Harry pleaded. "I have my invisibility cloak, and I'll stay under it. But he needs me, we're running out of time. Voldemort's careful, but he's not stupid. He'll kill him as fast as he thinks he can safely."

McGonagall turned to Dumbledore, who in turn nodded and said, "You both will go. Minerva, you can follow Harry as a cat, yes?"

"I don't need to see what I can hear and smell. If he stays invisible, I suppose we can avoid problems."

"Quickly, then," Dumbledore said, taking a candy wrapper from his desk. "_Portus_."

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Branches and briars closed in on the wooded path, but it was not yet overgrown. The packed dirt showed him nothing useful. He could tell the path was used fairly often, though he hardly had the skill to know how recently, or by whom.

Ahead, Harry spotted an abandoned cabin. The moldering roof had collapsed in on itself ages ago. Thick green moss covered the exposed beams. Harry pulled his cloak about him and entered the clearing. He watched his bracelet as he circled the ruin. The arrow fixed on the building and turned toward as he moved, telling Harry that the cabin was his destination. He pointed, letting just his hand appear through his cloak, and McGonagall's feline form streaked ahead, treading carefully around fallen timber to peer inside. Harry saw her enter, then moments later she reappeared, human again, and beckoned him urgently to follow.

He skidded to a halt when he spotted Severus curled up on the ground. A dark bundle of rags beneath a tattered cloak, Karkaroff, lay in a similar position. Harry did not take his own cloak of before sliding his hand up Severus's sleeve.

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Harry woke to find McGonagall standing over him looking terrified.

"Oh, thank heavens. I feared the worst. You screamed, then were suddenly stilled. I feared . . ."

Harry pushed her hands away and sat up. Severus's eyes were open and on him. Only his own nausea kept him from leaping into the man's arms, McGonagall's watchful eye notwithstanding. Without a word, the Potions Master shifted his gaze to Karkaroff, and Harry remembered the other person he was here to save.

Having no idea if the man was even alive, Harry sorted through his clothes and found his sleeve. Luckily, Voldemort placed tradition above subtlety, and all Death Eaters wore their Mark in the same place.

Harry managed to maintain consciousness this time, but only barely. The pain and disorientation were bad, but less than what he had felt with Nott. Voldemort had probably pulled back once Harry had freed Severus moments before. He fell backward, pulling his hand free of Karkaroff's Mark just as Voldemort released his grip on the man. Harry collapsed between the two former Death Eaters, gripping his stomach tightly in an attempt to keep it from emptying.

Taking deep breaths Harry managed to sit up. Severus's hand on his back stroked ever so lightly back and forth, partly from weakness, Harry thought, and partly because they were not alone. Still, it comforted him to know that Severus would reach out for him at all while others might see.

Now, a headache was building, and Harry concentrated on getting his own body back to normal before worrying about how the rest were doing. They were both alive, he knew, and that was enough for now. He tried to shut out the memory of how it had felt when he first entered Severus's mind.

The throbbing in his head was just starting to subside when what little was left of the roof caught fire.

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**A/N** A fire? Well, all the more reason to hurry up with the next chapter so Harry and the rest can get out! Thanks again for reading.

Aethen


	25. Chapter 25

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 25

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Harry fumbled for his wand as flames licked at the thick wooden beam supporting the small patch of roof above them. Professor McGonagall found hers first and deftly quelled the flames. Within seconds, a second fire started, this one spreading up from the doorway they had entered from.

"Death Eaters," Karkaroff said with little emotion.

Still queasy from freeing both Karkaroff and Severus from Voldemort's attack, Harry forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He pulled his wand out and helped McGonagall beat back the flames.

"We need to get out of here. Can you make a portkey, Professor?"

"Watch for fires," she responded, picking up a loose stone. "_Portus._" Harry grabbed Severus and Karkaroff's hands and nodded to the woman. She placed her hand on Harry's arm. Nothing happened. "It should have activated. This place must be warded."

"It was not when we arrived," Karkaroff growled.

"Then we fight," Harry said simply. "But we'll never survive in here trying to put out fires."

"Can you two walk?" McGonagall asked the former Death Eaters.

"I can if I have to," Severus replied. "But I am in no condition to outrun anyone. Harry can levitate Karkaroff while you protect them, Minerva. The wards surely do not extend more than a few hundred feet."

"And leave you here?" Harry asked. "You know that's not an option. I'll go out and fight. My cloak gives me an edge. Professor McGonagall can stay and make sure they don't burn the cabin down around you." Harry went to sweep the cloak about his shoulders when his professor stopped him.

"I cannot allow that, Harry," she said. "You will stay here. I will try to lead them away."

"I'm best when I'm attacking," Harry argued. "And they'll never follow you anyway. Not if they think they have two traitors in here. I'm the only target they'll like better than those two." He looked to Severus, hoping the man would see that his plan was the only that could work.

"As much as I hate to say it, Potter is right. Unless the Dark Lord's inner circle is out there, he can handle it. And his training has not focused on guarding others."

Not giving her a chance to argue, Harry stepped from McGonagall's grasp and donned his cloak. "If I can lead them away, I'll activate my bracelet. If any of them get inside, Severus can use his ring."

Outside, nothing stirred in the small clearing surrounding the cabin. Harry picked his course carefully, trying not to disturb any of the tall grass that grew in patches. When a ball of fire flew from a nearby try to strike the building, he trusted to the others to handle the fire and instead focused on the source of the spell.

_There, _Harry thought, spotting the flutter of robes beneath a fir's limbs. _But how many_? Silently, Harry circled his prey, wary of other wizards hiding in the forest. As he neared, he spotted a second person crouched next to the first. Both faced the cabin, and the fir tree's branches protected them from behind. He crept closer, unnerved by their gaze directed through him to their captured enemies. As he neared, he was forced to put his entire body between them and the cabin. Branches and leaves guarded the path, and a step to either side would alert them to his presence. Another fireball spell cast now would catch him square in the chest.

Wishing he knew if these two were the only wizards about, Harry decided that a spell would be too dangerous, as he could not cast without exposing his wand hand at least. He opted, instead, for a more Slytherin tactic. Stopping several feet in front of the pair, Harry ran his fingers along his potions belt, seeking a large bottle and its attached vial. Pulling it free, he uncorked the vial and drank its contents. Bitter, nearly noxious, the fluid made him gag. He wasted no time removing the large lid from the other bottle. The liquid inside evaporated immediately as Harry felt the reassuring tug of the wind at his back. He smelled nothing, nor did he expect to, but within seconds the two wizards in front of him slumped to the ground. Harry knew the gaseous potion would keep the pair unconscious for well over an hour.

Across the clearing, sudden rustling alerted Harry to more attackers. They must have seen their friends falling. Upwind from Harry, they were safe from that particular ploy, and Harry knew they would be more alert now.

Apparently, they had decided to take the fight to the cabin itself. Three cloaked figures broke into the clearing and began hurling fire spells at the structure. Again Harry hoped McGonagall, Severus and Karkaroff could handle the flames as he darted around the building to find a better place to attack from. He nearly ran into another group coming out of the woods on the other side of the cabin. Three enemies had become six, and Harry could not face one set without turning his back on another.

Another potion bottle in hand, Harry watched the Death Eaters cautiously approach the cabin. The fires were still under control, but Harry knew that the three inside would not be able to keep up with the six out here. Rather than risk fighting enemies on two fronts, Harry positioned himself to take out the three closest to him in one maneuver.

The sleeping potion bottle shattered on the front man's head as Harry cast Expelliarmus at one in the back. The force of the spell blasted the man directly into the third, just as Harry had planned. With one enemy snoring soundly, Harry tossed another potion into the fray before the two others could sort themselves out. It shattered on top of them, splashing them both with a viscous grey liquid. Once in contact with the air, the potion took on a life of its own, spreading out over the two men and covering them with its thick gel. Impossibly sticky, it pinned them to the ground and held their wands and arms fast.

Harry spent no time watching the potion work, however, as his actions had gotten the attention of the other group. "Enough of this," one of them shouted with a voice Harry did not recognize. "I'm going in. One of them is invisible. Find him."

The other two started throwing spells wildly in Harry's direction. He dodged a few, but most went nowhere near him. Ducking behind a rock to mask his exposed wand, Harry threw a blasting curse at one of the men. His target dodged and pointed in Harry's direction. He was pinned down, but the rock would protect him for now. A new vantage point was out of the question now anyway. Spells streaked at him too quickly for him to try to run, invisible or not. Knowing they were far enough away to dodge any curses, Harry searched for a new plan.

Directly behind the men, a fallen tree, split just above the ground by lightening, lay at an angle. Risking a moment to stand up, Harry's wand flashed out of his cloak as he called, "_Accio tree!"_

The great trunk hurtled toward him as if tugged by a giant string. The men in front of Harry were stuck in mid-turn, and Harry had a moment to panic when he realized that the spell had worked all too well. The mighty tree was indeed coming to him, and at far too great a speed to be safe. Dropping to the ground behind the rock, Harry curled into a ball and hoped for the best.

If being sliced by bits of wood as it shattered on the stone was the best, then Harry got what he had hoped for. Alive, but scraped and bloody, Harry peered over the trunk, wary of the final wizard. Nothing stirred. Harry settled his cloak again about him and crept up to the cabin window.

Inside, McGonagall's wand was pointed at the door. At her feet, the last attacker was spread, dead or unconscious. Harry did not know which and found he did not particularly care. These men had come to kill Severus, and no fate was too terrible for them.

"I think that's all of them," Harry called softly into the doorway before going inside and removing his cloak. "There were eight total. Three are asleep, two are stuck together with Oozing Glue, and two are either knocked out or dead. Plus whatever's wrong with that one." Harry pointed to the heap in the center of the room.

"Dead, probably," McGonagall said. "We three hit him at the same time. He may have survived one or two of us, but I doubt he can manage three blasting curses at once."

"You are hurt," Severus said to Harry, his eyes taking in his bloodied face and hands.

"Just scrapes. I sort of blew up a tree. I've felt worse." Severus did not look satisfied but kept his opinion to himself for now.

"Let us hurry, then," Professor McGonagall said. "More may come."

Severus and Karkaroff stood shakily and assured the other two that they could walk. Harry took the lead, invisible, and watched for trouble while McGonagall guarded their backs. Nothing stirred, though, and when McGonagall guessed they had gone far enough to avoid the wards, the four Portkeyed safely back to Hogwarts.

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Severus leaned on Harry for support, his legs still unsteady and aching from the phantom pain the Dark Lord had sent. As soon as the burning of the Mark grew beyond a normal summoning, he had activated his ring and assured Karkaroff that help was coming. As he slumped against the wall, unable to stand upright through the pain and vertigo, he wondered how far Harry had been from Albus when he got the signal. Just before he lost consciousness, he knew Harry was coming. He wondered, though, if the young man would be too late.

Granger and Weasley were waiting for them in Albus's office, and Severus forced himself to stand without help. The pair rushed over to Harry, anxiety written on both their faces. "Perhaps you two should escort Mr. Potter to the infirmary. His wounds are not severe, but shards of rotting wood lodged in the skin are not to be trifled with."

"What happened, Harry?" Weasley asked as Granger took Harry's arm. Harry turned and gave him a suspicious look. He knew the young wizard would want to know about Karkaroff's defection, but what the man had to say could not wait, nor could Harry's injuries. Severus could tell Harry was about to say something and cut it off with a look he had given countless times before. With a raise of his eyebrow, he let Harry know that not only did he already know what Harry was going to say, he had already lost the argument. Looking annoyed, Harry let Granger lead him out of the room.

"Do either of you need healing?" Albus asked them. Albus was no mean healer, and Severus had received his help on many occasions after suffering injuries he could not explain to Poppy. Both men indicated they were fine and Severus took a seat, letting Karkaroff tell his story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hours later, Severus finally strode past Salazar's bust and into his rooms. Hanging his cloak on the rack and noting that the archway was closed, he turned and said, "I am alone. You can come out of hiding." It was a safe bet that Harry was waiting. And if not, the empty room would not care that he was talking to himself.

A rustle near the couch revealed Harry. Severus's long stride took him quickly to the young man. He held Harry's face in his hand and tilted it toward the light of the fireplace. Running his thumb over Harry's smooth cheek, he said, "What in the world prompted you to blow up a tree?"

"It said some nasty things about Gryffindors. Be careful or you'll be next."

"I am always careful around you. The flailing manner with which you wave your wand about is likely to result in a lost eye."

Harry smiled at him and wrapped his soft fingers around Severus's rough hand. "You're feeling better, then?"

"Death was imminent," Severus said dramatically. "But the Dark Lord's presence is replaced with yours. Now I merely face impending aggravation."

"Flatterer." Harry stepped closer and embraced him. He was never much for physical contact. It generally made him uncomfortable, and he had cultivated a presence and a reputation to discourage others from touching him. Harry, of course, could not seem to spend more than a few seconds in his rooms without hugging him, or leaning against him on the couch. When Severus had asked him if he _had_ to nearly sit on top of him, Harry had simply said no, he did not have to–he wanted to.

When asked why he wanted to, the young man had smiled and answered, "Because I can. And you know how I take my tea." Severus chose not to argue. He understood both answers, after all. Besides, he did not mind the contact so much with Harry.

"So, are you going to tell me about Karkaroff?"

"There is little to tell thus far. I spent most of the day making sure he was trustworthy. Albus is questioning him now about the Dark Lord's current plans."

"It took that long? What about Legilemency and Veritaserum?"

"A wizard of his power can withstand both for a very long time and not appear to be fighting either effects. Albus is satisfied, though. And judging by your reaction earlier, he was not feigning pain when the Dark Lord attacked me."

"No, I can vouch that he was being attacked too. It wasn't as bad as yours when I got to him, but that's probably partly because I knew what to expect, and partly because I'd already turned your pain back on the Dark Lord."

"With impeccable timing, I might add," Severus added, feeling he should in some way acknowledge that Harry had again saved his life.

"I'm sorry I took so long getting to you. First I had to get to the Headmaster's office, then-"

Severus silenced him with a brief kiss. "You came," he said, gazing into Harry's eyes. "Which is more than I deserve."

Harry hooked an arm around his neck and rested his head on Severus's shoulder. "I was so scared I'd be too late."

_So was I_, Severus thought. But such things were not to be said out loud. He had thought many things as he lay on the ground waiting for Harry, as the pain grew and death loomed closer than it ever had before. The thoughts had all been about Harry. Not long ago, Severus would have only had the memories of his sins to torment him even through the Mark's pain.

The young man pulled away and smiled at him. "Tea?"

Severus smiled and nodded. He settled into the couch and watched Harry move about the kitchen. He had promised himself, as rescue became less and less likely, that he would tell Harry how much he had come to mean to him. Now, in the safety of Hogwarts, with the pain just a memory, it seemed melodramatic. Such declarations were meant for silly novels, not reality, and he had scorned such scenes when he read them. Plus, it would appear less sincere coming after Harry had saved his life. Anyway, Harry was content simply to spend time together. He had said as such before.

Harry returned shortly with the tea. Severus pushed away his sentimentality, banishing it as a reaction to his fatigue.

"Oh," Harry said, sitting next to him uneasily. "I know you asked me not to, but I told Ron and Hermione about us. Ron already knew I had a thing for you. I'm not much of an actor, I guess. He could tell how worried I was yesterday. I'm sorry for not asking you first. And I told Hermione last night while you were with the Headmaster."

He should have been angry, but the news was not entirely unexpected. One did not let Harry Potter into one's life without getting the rest of the group. "You mean you are not much of a liar, not an actor. I do not expect you lie to your two best friends regularly, and I will not be the reason you begin to."

"It's okay, then?"

"It will have to be."

"They won't say anything; you don't have to worry. We may not lie to each other, but we'll lie _for_ each other." Harry grinned.

"As long as they do not believe that revealing this is in your best interest," Severus added. How long until Harry's friends decided he would be better off without a traitorous Death Eater far too old for him?

Harry looked unworried. "You'll just have to keep being exactly what I need, then."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The following morning, Harry watched Severus sweep into the Great Hall for breakfast to a quiet grumbling from the student body. An entire day of canceled Potions classes had led to any number of rumors. Everyone knew he never missed a lecture, and the theories on his absence had ranged from a horrible brewing accident to open rebellion against the Headmaster. Harry simply kept quiet. His house-mates knew he and Severus were getting along better, but it would still appear odd to them if he stood up for the man. Not that Harry minded the rumors much. He shrugged them all off, even the nastiest, as little more than foolish chatter. Severus was safe, and nothing else mattered.

Hermione arrived late to the meal, her nose, as usual, buried in a book. The girl spent almost all her time lately trying to track down the last few spells Harry had seen used during the Marking. She had not been doing research last night, though, when Harry had told her about his budding relationship with Severus. Her reaction had proved that while she was certainly better in class than Ron, she was not nearly as observant when it came to her fellow students' emotions. For her part, she simply warned Harry to be careful, as Severus was much older than he. Harry had expected more objections, and he suspected by her tone that Hermione had wanted to say more, but she held back. Whether that was because Harry had just returned from battling Death Eaters or for another reason was unclear. Either way, though, Harry knew he had her support and loyalty.

"Another book of obscure spells, Hermione," Harry asked her as she sat.

"Hmm?" She looked up confused. "Oh, no. Ancient Runes. I didn't get a chance to reread this chapter last night, so I'm doing it now."

"Reread?" Ron asked, looking as if he was in physical pain. "Half the time I don't read the chapter at all."

"Yes, you read them half the time, and I read them twice. That's why I do four times as well as you. It's basic math."

Ron looked like he was trying to figure out if Hermione's arithmetic was right. Harry simply assumed it was to save time. As she turned the page, he caught a glimpse of a series of runes on the page.

"What runes are those?" Harry asked her. "They look familiar."

"Auxiliary runes," Hermione explained. "You've probably seen them before."

"What are they used for?"

"Containing energy. They're common to almost all runic magic."

"So where would I have seen them?" Harry knew he had seem the runes before. They were dancing at the edge of his memory.

"Anywhere," Hermione said to Harry's frustration. "They trap energy and provide power for connecting runes. Asking where you could have seen them is like picking up a battery and trying to remember what you saw a battery in before. Or asking what potions need a cauldron for brewing. Gringotts uses runic magic for protection. They were probably on the vault you went to with Hagrid before first year. I think there were some over the door at Sirius's house. And they're all over Hogwarts, but much more stylized."

"Hogwarts?" Ron asked. "Where?"

"Everywhere," Hermione answered. "They're just really, really fancy and look like decorations. Like the writing in old illuminated manuscripts. Half letters and half art. Most of the school's wards are runic. They're best for permanent spells."

"I guess it's not important, then," Harry said. "Never knew I was looking at runes all this time. I suppose a few stuck in my head."

Still, the familiarity tugged at him through breakfast. He finally pushed it out of his mind, refusing to dwell on it. He expected that once he forgot about the runes he would remember where he had seen them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By lunch, Harry had lost the nagging feeling, though enlightenment did not come. In the afternoon, Severus had Harry, Ron and Hermione stay back after Potions to tell them that several members of the Order would be in the Headmaster's office that evening going over what Karkaroff had told Dumbledore, and to let Harry know that Karkaroff had been given a ring to match his and Nott's. They were all anxious to know what the man knew, but as Severus was still in the dark about most of it, they would have to wait. He said nothing to the them about their now-shared secret, and Ron and Hermione certainly were not going to bring up the subject.

So, Harry followed his friends to the library and resigned himself to a Severus-free evening of homework. Luna and Neville were already there. Harry was happy to notice they had been spending a lot of time together since Neville had come to her rescue that morning a few weeks ago. They certainly made an interesting pair. Luna was almost as smart as Hermione, and Neville's confidence in himself had only been improving since the summer.

It was not long before Nott approached and asked them if they were working on Potions. As it happened, they were not, but Harry invited the boy to sit with them anyway.

"How is it in the dungeon," Harry asked. While the boy had not exactly opened up to them, he was a bit more willing to talk about things more personal than homework.

"As well as I can expect, I suppose. Half of Slytherin hates me for escaping the Dark Lord, and the other half are afraid I didn't escape at all."

"But Professor Snape looks out for you, doesn't he?" Luna asked.

"Lot of good that did me," Nott replied bitterly. Harry held his tongue.

"Hey Hermione," Ron said, changing the subject, "any progress on the spells?"

"No," Hermione answered, clearly upset. "We're pretty sure we know what the last two are." As far as Nott knew, they had gotten their information about the Mark from Snape, not Harry. "But there's still something missing. Professor Flitwick keeps saying that some kind of potion could bind the spells together into a single spell, but he's not about to suggest that Professor Snape didn't know about a potion. Anyway, Snape's expertise or not, he's said that Markings have been done after Voldemort had spent hours or even a full day with Death Eaters present. Whatever goes on during the Marking itself, there doesn't seem to be any kind of preparation beforehand. So it's all in our notes somewhere."

Harry resisted the temptation to rifle through those notes now. They were not supposed to let anyone see them, and were only to be looked at in the room set aside for the group doing the research. Not that the notes were that useful to Harry anyway. He did not have Hermione's mind for research. And most of the information they were going on still had Harry waking up shaking as he relived Nott and the rests' ceremony.

Suddenly, Harry jumped from the table. His friends looked up in surprise and several students from other houses glanced at him curiously.

"Nott, can you come with me a moment? You too, Hermione. Everyone else wait here." Nott looked suspicious, but agreed. "Bring your books," Harry added to Hermione, then led them to the corner of the library that held the tapestry of St. George.

"I realize this is going to be uncomfortable, but I need to see the Dark Mark," Harry said. Nott's face grew stony and Harry held a hand up. "I don't want to embarrass you, but it's important. Please. I'd ask Professor Snape, but he's not here." Nott clenched his jaw and looked over at Hermione. "I need her to see it too. I think I know what she's been missing. What we've all been missing."

As if took a physical effort, Nott pushed back his sleeve and exposed his forearm. Harry grabbed a piece of paper and beckoned the other two to the table. Looking between the Mark and his paper, Harry drew a swirling figure. "Hermione, tell me if this starts looking like one of those runes you've studied."

"It already does," she replied. Pulling out her book, she turned to one of the earlier chapters. "It's a foundation rune. That goes first and causes the rest to act together. My God, Harry. You're right. If the Mark is runic, that's the missing piece. Runes are best at binding and controlling magical energy."

"We need to talk to Dumbledore," Harry said. "Thank you, Nott."

"If you can get this off of me, you never have to thank me for anything."

"That's the plan," Harry responded. "Hermione, tell everyone what we figured out. I'm going to the Headmaster. He'll never let us all up while the Order is there, so I'll come back as soon as I can."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The gargoyle moved aside and Harry rushed up the stairs, unable to wait for them to rise on their own and carry him to the office. At the top, he had just enough manners to knock before pushing the door wide. Dumbledore sat at his desk, as usual. Tonks, Karkaroff and McGonagall sat across from him, and several other Order members stood along the wall. Harry spotted Severus in a dark corner and could not help but beam at the man.

"I found the missing piece," he said before anyone had a chance to object to his intrusion. "It's not a spell or a potion, it's the Mark. It's runic. Binding and controlling, right?"

"Are you sure, Mister Potter?" Flitwick squeaked, grasping Harry's incoherent statements immediately. "It makes sense, but can you identify which runes?"

"Not all, but it starts with this one." Harry moved to Dumbledore's desk and laid the parchment down. "At first-"

"I think," Severus interrupted and grabbed the paper from the desk, "that this conversation should be had in more private company."

"Don't we usually say that to get you out of the room?" Tonks asked lightly. Severus gazed at her coolly until she started to squirm a bit.

"Information has never been shared freely within the Order. We all know the reasons for that. None of us would keep our secrets for very long under the Dark Lord's questioning. Albus, may I speak with Potter in the other room while you continue in here?"

"Of course Severus. Perhaps Minerva and Filius should join you. They have been taking an active role in all of this after all." Severus nodded and the four left the room.

"That was foolish," Severus said to Harry once the door was closed. "The fewer who know you can see through the Dark Lord's eyes the better. Karkaroff still does not know exactly how you saved him, only that it was you who did it."

"I'm sorry, sir. You're right. I'm just excited. I think we can finally solve this thing."

With the other two professors behind him, Severus gave Harry a soft, though brief, smile, before handing him the parchment back. "Explain."

"It was dumb luck that I recognized a rune from one of Hermione's textbooks. But dumb luck's what I'm best at." Harry added that before Severus could get it in. "When the Dark Lord created the Mark, he pressed the tip of his wand against their skin and the Mark kind of spread out from it. This," Harry pointed to the paper, "was formed in the first second or so. Hermione said it's a foundation rune. After that, more lines started to grow out of it. I bet more runes are formed as it goes, until it eventually lookes like the skull and snake."

"What did it form after that?" Flitwick asked, excited.

"I don't really remember," Harry admitted. "I was paying more attention to what he was saying. And it was kind of horrible to watch. It's not like drawing. The skin's burning. I could smell it." Harry shook his head. "Anyway, I don't really remember. I only remember this much because it's still pretty simple. I think there was another, an Auxiliary rune, Hermione called it. For containing energy."

"Yes, yes, that certainly makes sense," Flitwick said. "I can't believe I didn't see it before."

"I agree," McGonagall said. "Excellent work Mr. Potter. Fifty points."

"Where on the Mark did you see the Auxiliary rune," Severus asked. "The sooner we can break this down, the sooner we will have answers." Without hesitating, he exposed his arm and presented the Mark to Harry.

Harry went to point out the figure with his finger, but quickly realized that not only would the contact put him in Severus's mind, it would likely scandalize McGonagall to see him tracing patterns along Severus's skin. He went for his wand, but decided that bringing that into contact with the Mark may have its own unexpected reaction. Finally, Severus reached into his robe and pulled out a glass stirring rod. Harry caught his eye, amused, and accepted it.

"I am a Potions Master," Severus pointed out to the unspoken question.

"And wandering around with a stirring rod in your pocket proves it," Harry whispered back. "Would I lose points if I called you a Potions nerd?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. I won't do that." McGonagall and Flitwick huddled close and Harry gave up the banter and concentrated on finding the rune hidden in the complex form of the Mark.

"That's two. How do we sort out the rest?" Flitwick asked.

"We would need to know the exact order in which the lines were made," McGonagall said. "If I stare at that Mark long enough, I am quite certain I will find nearly any rune. Severus, I don't suppose . . ."

"I only remember the pain. And if you ask Karkaroff or Mister Nott, I am certain they will say the same. That is as the Dark Lord wishes it."

"Then we need to find out when he's going to do another Marking," Harry said simply, hoping his voice sounded calmer than he felt. "And I should probably start studying likely runes so I'll know what I'm looking at."


	26. Chapter 26

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 26

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"Absolutely not," Severus said. "Under no circumstances will you risk entering the Dark Lord's mind again." He went into the Headmaster's office and returned moments later carrying a Penseive. He handed the artifact to Harry. "Must you always choose the most difficult path?"

Suppressing a blush, Harry took the Penseive. "Hadn't thought of that." With practiced ease, Harry drew the thread of his memory out and placed it in the dish, then set the Penseive on the table.

"Well, shall we see what there is to see?" McGonagall asked. "We can worry about taking specific notes later."

"Are you all going to watch?" Harry asked. He was a bit uncomfortable with the thought of his three professors all diving into his memories.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," McGonagall replied. "The more minds on this, the better, I should think." Nodding in agreement, Flitwick climbed on a chair and joined the woman peering into the Penseive.

"I have a working knowledge of runes, but Professors Flitwick and McGonagall are more proficient. If you would prefer, I will not invade your memories."

"Do you want to?" Harry asked. Severus's hand twitched toward his forearm. "You can if you want. You have a right to see what he did to you."

"Perhaps," Severus said. "But it is still your memory."

"Oh, my," Flitwick said, his attention back in the present. "Oh, dear." The small man slumped into his chair.

McGonagall, too, had emerged. She looked pale, and gazed mournfully at Harry as she nearly fell into a seat.

"Did you see anything useful, Minerva?" Severus asked. When she did not respond, he asked again.

"Pardon? Oh. No. No, nothing useful." McGonagall stared at the table, then looked again at Harry. "Oh, Harry. To live with such a memory." She stood and hugged Harry tightly. He could feel her trembling, and suspected she was more in need of his support than wanting to give him hers. Still confused about her answer, though, Harry looked questioningly at Severus. He was frowning at the Penseive and must have sensed Harry's gaze, as he turned to look at him. Getting answers from McGonagall and Flitwick seemed a lost cause. Harry nodded to Severus, who stepped over the Penseive and stared into it.

To Harry's relief, Professor McGonagall collected herself, though the look of pity she gave Harry was one he would be happy to never see again. He only had to wait a few minutes for Severus to stir. Unlike the other two, he showed no emotion as he handed the Penseive back to Harry.

"Your attention was too strongly drawn to the Dark Lord's chanting and his emotional state. I cannot make out the lines from the Mark as they were burned in."

"Oh," Harry said. He had no real idea how the Penseive worked, but Severus seemed to think the missing information was normal enough. "I'm sorry."

Severus waved off his apology. "You did not know the Mark itself was important. And if you had, you would have probably missed some of the spells he was reciting."

"I still don't understand, though. If I was watching the whole thing, why isn't in the Penseive?"

"Memory is not a perfect medium. The Penseive can only show what your mind has processed. Some things may never enter our awareness, but they are still tucked away in some corner of our memory. The Penseive can draw those details out. But other things are missed entirely by the brain. Information that is never processed is missing from the memory. It is hardly surprising that your mind did not store the Marking itself, given that your were consciously focusing on what the Dark Lord was saying. Not to mention the added distraction of his emotions and the response from the students."

"I still feel like I've let you all down," Harry replied.

"That is hardly surprising as well," Severus commented cooly.

Harry ignored the jibe, aware of the presence of his other teachers. "So it's back to my first plan, then," Harry said firmly. "He hasn't caught me in his mind yet, and I'll be careful. It's just a matter of time before I catch him in another Marking."

"To go through that again . . ." McGonagall said. He turned away from the Transfiguration Professor. The tone of her voice and the look of horror in her face were exactly why he had not wanted to share the memory in the first place. "We must speak to the Headmaster about this. You will not attempt any such thing until you have the Headmaster's approval, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered promptly. With a satisfied nod, she stood and returned to the office. Flitwick gave Harry a reassuring pat on the hand before following her.

Harry caught the white thread floating in the Penseive with his wand and returned it to its place among the other memories he wished he never had.

"Harry," Severus said, coming close to him. "I want you to promise me you will not go spying on the Dark Lord unless I and the Headmaster are aware."

"I already told Professor McGonagall-"

"I know all too well how you listen to your professors. I want you to promise _me_ though. I'll believe you if you promise me."

"You aren't leaving me with much room to work with," Harry said, pretending to pout.

"That is precisely the idea. Now, promise."

"Okay. I promise."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry rested his back against Severus's chest. Severus's arm was around him, and Harry idly stroked the back of his hand as he listened to the details of Karkaroff's defection.

"Wasn't he afraid the Dark Lord would punish him for turning in other Death Eaters after his first defeat?" Harry asked.

"The Dark Lord demands loyalty to himself only. He knows that the best of his followers will do whatever they must to protect themselves. As long as that does not include betraying the Dark Lord himself, he cares little for the details. Lucius Malfoy used a similar tactic to remain free. Karkaroff knew, though, that ignoring last spring's summons would be suicide, so he returned along with the rest. Unlike Malfoy, though, Karkaroff was not pleased to see his old master return."

"So he's like you?" Harry asked, feeling an irrational sense of pride for Severus's change of heart so many years ago.

"I would not go that far. He is weary of being a Death Eater, yes. And as long as the Dark Lord remains, he is forced to a life of servitude that does not suit him. He seeks asylum, not to fight with us."

"He'll practically be a prisoner here, though. He knows that?"

"Trapped here is better than being at the Dark Lord's beck and call. And the Headmaster is not prone to torturing his staff and guests."

"Better company here, too," Harry observed and stole a kiss. "Did he know if any Markings are coming up?"

"Several students from Durmstrang will be traveling to London in two weeks under the guise of a school trip. The disposition of the students chosen suggest they will come to be Marked." Severus's arm tightened around Harry.

"I'm a bit surprised you've letting me do this, you know," Harry said.

"If I believed you were only risking yourself for me, I wouldn't stand for it. But the ramifications of removing the Dark Mark go far beyond my personal objections to being scarred thusly."

Harry twisted around and kneeled on the couch, smiling at Severus. "Want to know something?" His eyes followed his fingertips as they ran down Severus's cheek. "I'm doing it for you. If it helps win the war and save the world, that's great. But I'm doing it for you."

"Why?" Severus's voice was nearly a whisper. "I'm not worth risking your life for. If the Dark Lord finds out-"

"He hasn't found me out yet. And you're worth the risk." Severus looked away, and Harry rested his open hand on the man's chest. "You're more than your past, Severus."

"You know nothing about this." Severus stood suddenly and walked to the fireplace.

"About guilt? Or about a past that won't leave you be?" Harry watched Severus turn to reply and slumped back into the couch. "I know. It's not the same. I don't want to argue; I just hate it when you act like you deserve to suffer."

"You never answered my question, though," Severus said, his voice softer. "Why are you so set upon breaking the Mark? Is the reminder of my mistakes so unbearable to you?"

Harry shook his head. "It's a reminder that you're not free, and that's unbearable." He held a hand out for Severus to join him again on the couch and reclaimed his position against the man's chest. They sat in silence for long minutes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry poked at his lunch with his fork, but left most of the meal untasted. Ten minutes ago, the Headmaster had come into the Great Hall in as bad a mood as Harry had ever seen the man display. He had fetched Severus with a word and left without a glance at anyone else in the room. Severus, too, did not catch anyone's eye, not even Harry's, and now he was worried. Severus had promised not to leave the grounds without telling Harry, but when Dumbledore returned alone, he could not help but be worried.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione whispered. "If he had to go somewhere dangerous, the Headmaster would have told you. Maybe he's brewing a potion for the Order or something like that."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," Harry agreed, though he did not mean it. He resigned himself to a slow afternoon and waited for potions class to arrive.

Class did arrive, and though he entered the room to find Severus seated behind his desk as usual, Harry was still worried.

"See, Harry?" Ron said as they sat down. "He's still here. Everything's okay. Hermione was probably right about the potion."

Harry shook his head. "No, something's wrong. Look at him! He's upset about something."

Ron looked over at the Potions Master, who was growling at Neville for standing too close to the glassware. "He looks normal to me."

Harry just shook his head again.

After class, Harry stayed back with Ron and Hermione as everyone else left.

Expecting them, Severus said, "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, please wait for Mr. Potter in the hall."

With the two gone and the door closed, Severus stepped behind his desk and gathered some papers. "As I am sure you noticed, the Headmaster spoke with me this afternoon. He is aware that you have been spending time alone with me in my chambers, and wishes it to stop."

Harry felt himself going numb. "But . . . How did he find out? I only told Ron and Hermione, and I know it wasn't them."

"How is immaterial, Mr. Potter. As the Headmaster, I am certain he need not rely on gossip or student informers. The walls themselves have eyes and ears as you know. The point is, you are my student and I am your teacher, and that is all."

"So that's it? It's over, just like that?"

"I do not see any other option, Mr. Potter. Neither of us can afford to lose the protection of the Headmaster."

"What right does he have-"

"He is the Headmaster of this school and my superior. He is also legally responsible for your welfare while you attend here."

"You're not a danger to my welfare. I need you."

"The Headmaster disagrees, and you and I are not in a position to argue."

"Like hell I'm not!" Harry spun around and stormed toward the door.

"You will not go to the Headmaster about this," Severus ordered. "Did you hear me, Mr. Potter? Harry, stop this instant!"

Harry slammed the door, leaving Severus yelling at the empty room. Startled, Ron and Hermione jogged to keep up with him, but he ignored their questions. He was saving his anger for the man who deserved it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The gargoyle gazed at him impassively as he yelled at it to move. He knew Dumbledore would know he was outside trying to get in, but the statue refused to budge. How could he ignore Harry's pain like this? He pulled out his wand.

"You can't spell it open, Harry," Hermione said gently. "You need the password. Whatever's wrong, talk to us about it. I'm sure the Headmaster will see you when he can."

"He'll see me now," Harry said through clenched teeth. "_Alohamora_!" The gargoyle shuddered, and Harry kept his wand pointed at the guardian. By force of will, he sent his energy through his wand, demanding that the way be cleared. Stone talons scraped along the ground as if the beast were gripping the floor to no avail. Slowly, it began to move. Harry kept his focus as he rode the staircase to the rooms above.

Finally at the office door, Harry threw it open and stepped inside. Ron and Hermione kept cautiously out of the office, though both peered through the door at Harry.

Dumbledore was not alone. Remus was there, along with Tonks and Mundungus. "Harry?" the Headmaster asked, surprise for once showing on his face. "How did you get in here?"

"I won't let you take Severus away from me."

"Dear boy, I am not taking anyone from you. You are both here at Hogwarts, true?" He spoke in a calm voice. On the other side of the room, the reaction from the other Order members told Harry that they knew Harry's secret.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Yes, I do, Harry. I am sure you are feeling betrayed and hurt, but it is for the best. I cannot permit you to become involved in an inappropriate relationship with a member of my faculty."

"And who decides what's appropriate?" Harry countered. He knew Dumbledore's calm, reasonable responses were meant to shake Harry's resolve and he refused to be manipulated by the man.

"Well," Dumbledore said with a chuckle, "I am the Headmaster. It's my duty to protect you."

Knowing his rage was fading, Harry decided to play the man's game. "Protect me from what? From Professor Quirrell? From the Basilisk? Protect me from impostors who enter me illegally into contests that set me against dragons? Or maybe you're supposed to protect me from Voldemort. I don't remember seeing you in that graveyard. Who's protecting me from your mistakes? The Dursleys?"

"This has nothing to do with any of that," Dumbledore responded, not rising to Harry's bait. "This is about a member of my faculty excercising influence over you. I know very well that Professor Snape can be persuasive when he wants to be. Even charming."

"Is that what you think? That he tricked me into caring about him?"

"You did not care for him at all just a few months ago. In fact, you did not appear to care for men a few months ago."

"So he turned me gay?" Harry laughed bitterly. "I knew I was gay before I could stand being in the same room with Severus. But I grew up, Headmaster. And I stopped hating him for stupid reasons, and he stopped hating me for ancient history. And you have no right-"

"I have every right. If you will not see reason, I am sorry, but that is not required. If you wish to remain a student here, you will not spend a moment alone with him. Is that clear?"

Harry glared at Dumbledore. An order and a threat. It was a bluff. Dumbledore would never expel him for this. He needed Harry. In fact, he needed Harry more than Harry needed him.

"I understand perfectly, Headmaster." He met the man's gaze coldly, emptying his mind and protecting it from the other man's. "The Knight Bus should have me back at the Dursley's by dinner."

"Harry, you can't!" Remus blocked the door. "You-Know-Who will know if you leave. He'll find you, and the minute you leave the Dursley's house, he'll kill you."

"He's going to do that anyway, Remus," Harry replied. "Whether I'm leaving the Dursley's, or here, or Grimmauld Place, what's the difference?"

"Harry," Tonks said and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Be reasonable. If you care that much for Snape, and if he really does care about you, what's the rush? Once you've graduated and You Know Who's gone, you can do whatever you want."

Harry shrugged the hand away. "Voldemort's going to kill me," he replied softly. "The best I can do is kill him, too. Everyone knows it, but no one wants admit it."

"That's not true!" Ron said. "You'll win. You have to."

"I won't. I can't. He's stronger than I am, and he's a better Wizard. I'll do whatever I have to to make sure he doesn't survive, too, but there's no way I can beat him and save myself. It's okay. I've accepted it. But sometimes I forget it when I'm with Severus, and I feel normal again." He turned to look at Dumbledore. "Don't I deserve that?"

The Headmaster did not respond; he simply gazed at Harry with the same look he had during Harry's explosion in his office after Sirius died. Harry felt his anger returning, and without another word he pushed past Ron and Hermione and ran down the stairs.

He could hear his friends following but did not slow down for them. Instead, he made for Gryffindor tower and did not stop until he was in his dorm.

"Hey, Harry," Dean called to him. "What's going on."

Hands shaking, Harry replied, "I'm leaving school." He opened his trunk and shoved his books in.

"Oh, right then. Well, take care," Dean answered with a laugh. Finally catching the other boy's expression, his eyes grew wide. "Harry, you're serious?"

Before Harry could answer, the door opened as Ron and Hermione caught up to him. Ron rushed to his trunk and slammed the lid closed. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Harry stepped back and laughed harshly. "You're right. No need to pack, I suppose. I won't get far enough to worry about unpacking."

"Harry, you can't leave. He's not worth it."

"Don't you ever say that again," Harry replied. "He's-" Severus's dark form in the doorway quieted him. The Potions Master strode calmly into the room.

"Granger, Thomas, Weasley. Leave." No sixth year could mistake the anger in his voice, and Dean, closest to the door, was out before the last word was spoken. Ron looked hesitant until Hermione grabbed his arm.

"We'll see you're not interrupted, Professor. Or overheard."

Severus nodded in her direction, but did not take his eyes off Harry. When the door was closed, he moved closer, still tense with rage.

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Wanting to be happy is crazy?" Harry shot back.

"You will have no time to be happy!" Severus's eyes flared. "Listen to me. He will find you the instant you step off Hogwarts grounds. You cannot apparate, and you will never make it to the Headquarters or the Dursleys'."

"I know that."

"Then why do you insist on meeting _him_ so quickly?"

Harry sat heavily on the trunk. "What's the difference if it happens now or later?"

"Every day you train, you become better equipped to-"

"Every day I train, he's training too. Maybe not training, but he's becoming stronger. He's not sitting around waiting for me to catch up to him. You know it as well as I do. He's probably working on ten new ways to kill me right now."

"Why fight him at all, then, if you are so sure you will fail."

"I don't expect to fail," Harry responded. "I do have an advantage. I won't give him the chance to use his skills or knowledge. One spell, strong enough to kill him before he kills me."

"He will be heavily shielded by his own spells. A spell strong enough to penetrate his defenses and kill him would drain you completely. You could never survive having that much power pass through you at once."

"I know," Harry said softly. "The prophesy said one of us had to die, but it didn't say we both wouldn't. There's no way I'm going to get through this, so the next best thing is making sure he doesn't either. And I don't need any more training to do it."

"How long have you felt this way?"

Harry shrugged. "A while, I guess. Maybe I've known it since Dumbledore first told me about the prophesy."

"So you intended to make me care about you, then run off to be taken away?"

"Of course not!" Harry looked up alarmed. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't expect this any more than you did. I never thought you'd give me a reason to want to stay alive. But if I'm not allowed to be happy any more, what's the point in waiting? It's better for everyone if I finish this now."

"The Headmaster will never allow you to leave."

"He can't keep me here. I'm stronger than he is. You said that yourself."

"I said no such thing. And Albus Dumbledore is not the enemy, Harry."

"You said you've only known one other wizard who could cast the spells I did without getting tired, and you weren't talking about the Headmaster. And if he's doing this, then he is an enemy. Maybe he's not evil like the Dark Lord, but you know what? I was never fighting him because he was evil. Everyone in the Order acts like I'm some saint, fighting for some moral cause. But I'm not. I just want a normal life, and I can't have that while he's alive."

"Are you speaking of the Dark Lord, or Dumbledore?"

Harry shrugged. "Add in Bellatrix Lestrange and you've got the whole list. Everyone who took away someone I care about."

"Harry, being told you cannot see me outside of class is hardly on par with losing your parents or your godfather."

"No, it's not. In some ways, it's worse. I never knew my parents, and I barely knew Sirius, but I know what Dumbledore's trying to take from me."

"So you choose suicide out of spite?"

"Haven't you heard what I've been saying? It's suicide no matter what. It just doesn't matter when any more."

The door opened, and Harry's jaw clenched at the sight of the Headmaster entering the room. Looking somewhat terrified, Ron leaned in from the hallway and closed the door. "Professor Snape, I think you have done enough. Please wait for me in your rooms in the dungeon."

Unexpected, Severus sat beside Harry. "No, Albus, I do not think I will. If Harry is going to rush to his death because of this, I will not have him do so alone."

"Severus," Dumbledore responded, his voice still calm and congenial, "surely you do not believe I would allow that. The doors are warded against Harry's leaving for now. Once he has calmed down a bit, they will be removed, of course."

Harry chose not to respond. Expecting nothing less than being kept a prisoner, he decided there was no point in arguing any more. Severus, though, persisted.

"Harry is fully capable of tearing down your wards, Albus. I have trained him long enough to know that. And Harry knows that as well. It will weaken him, of course, but you cannot hold him if he does not allow it. Do you really want him to meet the Dark Lord after breaking free from this castle? Would you have him drained by fighting you, too?"

"I am hardly sending him out to meet his death, Severus. I am trying to keep him here, if you recall."

"It doesn't matter," Harry cried, frustrated. "Neither of you are listening to me. It doesn't matter when I leave, it's going to end the same way no matter what. Just let me get it over with."

Severus glared at Dumbledore as he laid an arm across Harry's shoulders.

"Surely you do not believe that Harry cannot survive this, Severus." There was an edge of pleading in Dumbledore's voice now.

"What I believe does not matter. It's what Harry believes. I cannot keep him here any more than you can. Not from across a classroom."

In despair, Harry leaned against Severus and waited for Dumbledore to speak. "Well," the Headmaster replied, "it seems I have little choice. However, I must insist on the following rules." He held up a single finger and started to speak again, but Harry interrupted.

"No," Harry said simply. "Whatever it is, no. No one gets to take any part of this away from me. From us. We're going to keep it a secret because that's how we want it, so I'm sure that'll keep you happy." He turned his head without waiting for an answer and leaned into Severus's chest. Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing told of the Headmaster's exit.

Alone again, Severus stood and turned to stare down at Harry. "You," he said in a strained voice, "are not going to die. I did not waste my time teaching you everything I know about Occlumency, hexes, curses and combat to have you run off and settle for taking the Dark Lord out with you."

"Severus . . ." This was not how it was supposed to be. Severus was his hope–his escape from this.

The older man knelt in front of Harry and cupped his face in his hands. "Do you think I would have allowed myself to care this much about you if I thought you would not survive this? You are not entirely irresistable, Mr. Potter, despite what your fans say, and I am more a coward than you are attractive."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Terribly sorry for yet another delay getting this chapter done. Life has turned busy, and I'm working when I can, but sadly, that's not that often. I fully intend to finish this story as quickly as I can, though, so a huge thanks go out to everyone who's stuck with it this far. If it wasn't for all the wonderful reviews, I probably wouldn't have made it this far.

This chapter is dedicated to my favorite fanboy, AsukaSange. Thanks for the support and friendship.

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 27

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Severus knelt in front of Harry and cupped his face in his hands. "You are not entirely irresistible, Mr. Potter, despite what your fans say, and I am more a coward than you are attractive. Do you think I would have allowed myself to care this much about you if I thought you would not survive this?"

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"What if you're wrong?" Harry asked softly.

"I refuse to accept the alternative," Severus replied, as if that were enough. For a moment, Harry almost thought it was. He gathered his cloak and stood up, squeezing Severus's hand.

"Stay here, Harry. Talk to your friends. You'll feel better."

"You make me feel better."

"They are worried about you, Harry. And as little as I care about their worries, I am all too aware that they will soon begin to pester us both about what has happened." Severus let go of Harry's hand and opened the door. His face took on its familiar sneer. "Furthermore, Potter, while the Headmaster may have let this matter drop, I have not forgotten that you disobeyed me earlier. Report to my classroom in two hours for detention. I have cauldrons in need of cleaning."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied meekly for any audience gathered in the hall. With his usual fluid stride, Severus exited the room. Ron came in hesitantly. Hermione followed.

"Give us a minute, Dean?" She asked the other boy. With a worried glance at Harry, Dean nodded and headed down the hall. Hermione closed the door and sat on Ron's bed while Ron shifted his weight from foot to foot.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Hermione cleared her throat. "So, what did the Headmaster say?"

"The same thing he said in his office," Harry replied sullenly.

"So you two aren't . . ." Ron trailed off.

"No, I'm still going to see him. I told Dumbledore he can't stop me, and he knows I'm right."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's the Headmaster."

Harry chuckled. "I didn't think you'd approve. But Dumbledore hasn't exactly made the best decisions for me so far, has he? He handed me over to the Dursleys and didn't bother to check on me for eleven years. Then he hired two Death Eaters to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not to mention everything that happened last year. It's time I started making my own decisions."

Hermione pursed her lips, but did not argue. After some more silence, Ron spoke up. "You don't really believe what you said before, do you Harry? About You-Know-Who killing you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Severus says I can beat him. But maybe he's just saying that."

"Well, I don't know what he's like when it's just you two, but Snape's never seemed like the type to say something to make you feel better," Ron said. "And you might not believe me, but I think you can beat him, too."

"You don't know what he can do," Harry replied. "I've seen him killing people before."

"So has Professor Snape," Hermione pointed out. "Who else knows you and Voldemort as well as he does? He's certainly never overestimated what you can do."

Harry agreed with a chuckle.

"That's one problem done with, then," Ron said with a nod. "Now on to the next one. How did Dumbledore find out about all this? You know we didn't tell anyone, right?"

"Of course I do. And Severus knows it, too. Not that he'd ever admit it. Someone else must have found out."

"Someone saw you going into his room, maybe?" Hermione offered. Harry shook his head and explained that he always wore his cloak. "One of the ghosts?"

"They know better than to go into Severus's rooms."

"Well," Hermione said, "he is the Headmaster. Maybe he can just tell what's going on in the school."

"He's missed a lot over the years. That basilisk had no problem getting around, remember? Someone must have told him."

"And we can't very well go around asking people if they squealed, can we?" Ron muttered.

Harry frowned and shook his head. "There's no point in worrying about it. If someone already knows, there's nothing we can do now. I'll still be careful to use my cloak so no one else hears of it." Ron still looked angry at the unknown informant. "And listen. Thanks for putting up with me through all of this. I know you two aren't thrilled about me and him."

"Well, I wouldn't say we're unhappy about it. But I don't think we understand it either." Harry searched for the words to explain when Hermione stopped him. "We don't have to." She looked over at Ron for confirmation.

"You'd really have left school because of him?" Ron asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Looking back, he wondered if he had not been overreacting. But he still was not as sure about his own survival as everyone else seemed to be, and in that light, leaving school to face Voldemort had been less frightening than losing what he had with Severus. Severus probably thought he was acting like a child. "Yeah," Harry replied. "Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever said, but I would have left. I know that might sound like I don't care about you two as much, but that's not it. It's just different with him."

"You don't have to explain," Hermione assured him. "It's supposed to be different, isn't it?

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Harry was halfway to Severus's rooms when he remembered that the man had specifically told him to report to the Potions classroom. Stifling a grin, he changed direction and headed to his detention. Severus had a cauldron set up at the front of the room and was swiftly chopping something beside it. He glanced up at Harry briefly, but the brew held his attention. "You are two minutes late, Mr. Potter. The cauldrons in that corner need to be cleaned. Please take care of that while I attend to this."

Harry pulled the door closed and watched Severus carefully. He had not seemed genuinely upset in the Tower, but now? Harry really had to clean the cauldrons? He still felt guilty at being so ready to leave Severus behind to meet Voldemort, so without a word, he rolled up his sleeves lifted the first cauldron into the sink. He wondered what foul concoction it had held, and if the sticky mess inside was intended or the result of some Neville-scale accident.

"What in the world are you doing?" Severus asked from behind him. Suddenly terrified that the viscous stuff would react badly with water, Harry froze.

"I was going to clean this." Harry almost added a "sir" at the end out of habit. In years past this was the point in the conversation where Severus would explain in gory detail how Harry's stupidity had nearly resulted in catastrophe.

"I can see that, Harry, but thank you. I meant: why are you using the sink? You should be carrying at least two wands."

"Oh," Harry said sheepishly, turning around. "I thought you wanted me to scrub them. You know, like old times."

"A cleaning charm will do. Did you really think this was punishment? I would clean them myself but this potion requires far too much attention."

Blushing, Harry returned the cauldron to its place on the counter. "I wasn't sure. I guess I was a bit childish before, so treating me like one wouldn't be too far off, would it?"

"I do not recall calling you childish. Foolish, yes. Impetuous, absolutely. Suicidal, quite."

"I see where that's going, thank you," Harry interrupted. Severus responded with a grunt and turned back to his work as Harry made short work of the cauldron's, levitating them back to their shelves once cleaned. As took a seat to watch the Potions Master work, the some of man's words in the Tower came back to him.

"Did you mean what you said up there," Harry asked quietly. "About not letting me face the Dark Lord alone?"

Severus looked up, surprised, then gazed thoughtfully into his cauldron. "I meant I would not allow Dumbledore to upset you again, causing you to run off." He stirred the concoction and sprinkled something into it. "That is not to say, however, that I want you to face the Dark Lord alone when the time comes. But at this moment, I would be more of a hindrance in such a battle. You cannot protect yourself while you are protecting me."

"When we get the Mark off you, then?" Harry felt the stirring of guilt as he asked the question. He knew it was unfair to ask a question like that. As Hermione had said, no one knew Voldemort as well as Severus, and no one had more reason to be afraid of him.

"As I do not believe you intended to insult me right now, I will pretend you did not ask me that question," Severus muttered. Harry smiled.

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The whispers in the hallway started right after breakfast. While this was nothing particularly new for Harry, it still irritated him. Hushed conversations, giggles and chuckling from groups of students, all mysteriously quiet when Harry passed by. Hermione had the _Daily Prophet _ delivered, but nothing had been printed about Harry that day. Whatever the latest bit of gossip was, Harry knew he would hear of it soon enough and tried to concentrate on his classes.

On their way to lunch, Harry, Ron and Hermione passed a knot of Ravenclaw boys who sniggered at they walked by. As they entered the Great Hall, the word "poof" followed. Harry paled, but kept walking. Hermione's grip on Ron's sleeve kept the other boy moving, too. At the Gryffindor table, several of the younger years watched Harry curiously as they took their seats. As usual, Ginny and Neville joined them at the end of the bench.

"Have you two heard anything-" Hermione asked them, but was cut off by Neville's angry nod.

"Luna said everyone in Ravenclaw's heard about it. I guess the whole school knows. Harry, what happened last night?"

With a sigh, Harry replied, "I can't talk about it. I'm sorry. I really am. What exactly did Luna hear?" He stomach knotted up, terrified at what horrible things had been said about him and Severus. He could just imagine that the other man would bear the brunt of the rumors.

As if on cue, Severus swept into the room. No one dared snicker at the feared professor, of course, who made a show of helping Professor Jones into her seat–something he had not done in some time. Harry watched the whole thing through the corner of his eye, afraid to show too much interest in the man's actions.

"Just that you're . . ." Neville looked around before continuing. "You know. They said someone in Gryffindor heard you talking to Ron and Hermione about dating some guy."

"They didn't say who?" Harry asked in a whisper. Neville shrugged.

"I heard the same thing," Ginny added. "I don't know who started it, but I told everyone in my Charms class that I thought it was a pretty pathetic Gryffindor that spread rumors about someone." Harry gave the girl a smile.

"This doesn't quite add up," Hermione said. "Maybe two people know?"

"Why two people?" Neville asked. "What aren't you telling us, Harry?" Harry frowned at the question. "Wait. Nevermind. You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"I am seeing someone," Harry replied. Ginny clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "But I can't tell you who. It's not that I don't want to; I've promised to keep it a secret. Someone told Dumbledore, though. He wasn't too happy about it."

"So that's why you were so upset last night." Neville observed.

"And someone else heard you talking to Ron and Hermione about it?" Ginny asked. "You're really bad at keeping secrets."

"Maybe," Hermione said. "Or maybe not. Let's face it, this may not be a student. Or it might be someone who's getting information from someone else." She looked pointedly at Harry. Everyone knew the implication.

_ I need to talk to Severus_, Harry thought.

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The other man had no new information, though. Whispers in the dungeon were about Harry only, and Severus had not heard so much as a hint of his own involvement with the boy. Harry decided to visit the man less, worried about being seen in the dungeons. As the week went on, a few students grew bolder with their comments. He recognized Millicent Bulstrode's voice, and Blaise Zabini's as well. That those Slytherins would choose to harass Harry was no surprise. But they were not the only students whose taunts followed him in the hall. Never to his face, though. The insults flew down the halls, around corners, at his back. A part of him hoped someone would say something, anything, to his face so he could silence the cowards ridiculing him, but even then, he worried, Dumbledore may not take his side in the conflict. At the same time, no small part of him was desperately afraid of facing his attackers directly, as the thought of answering the rumors terrified him.

The tension followed Harry all day. He tried to shrug it off, but seeing how it affected his friends made it harder. He was constantly keeping Ron from calling someone out. Hermione had blown up in the hallway, on Tuesday, berating a group of young Ravenclaws for their language. They were forced to act contrite because she was a prefect, but her words had no lasting effect. The taunts alone would not have been so bad if Harry was not already sinking into a strange mood as the weekend of the next Markings approached. Nightmares of the last summer's ceremony plagued him by night, fitting between dreams of Draco's broken body falling from the Willow's flailing limbs.

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By Thursday, Harry had had enough. He was fighting a losing battle by keeping silent. He refused to lie and deny the rumors, but the thought of admitting their truth was terrifying. Things were getting worse, though, and it was just a matter of time before Ron got expelled defending him. Harry made up his mind amidst the snickers and stares at lunch. He stood and walked to the head table, conscious of the eyes of the hall on him.

"Headmaster, I was wondering if you would permit me to address the school," he said quietly. "I'm sure you know there are rumors making the rounds about me–just me–and I thought the best way to deal with them would be by addressing them directly."

Dumbledore pursed his lips and replied, "Could I stop you if I wanted to?"

"Yes," Harry replied stiffly. "I am asking permission, after all. The rumors are limited to just me. I won't talk about anyone else, if you're worried about that."

"If you feel you need to address the rumors, then I am in no position to stop you," the Headmaster replied.

"Excuse me, everyone," Harry said, keeping his voice calm and polite, and just loud enough to carry across the room. Inside, however, his mind was racing and his pulse quickened. He focused on what he was saying and ignored the swirls of fear and worry that threatened to force him to break into a run. "I'm sure you've all heard the rumors about me. On any given day, there are usually several, really, but the newest one seems to be that I'm gay." Not even the rustle of someone shifting in their seat could be heard.

"First, they're true. I am gay. And second," Harry went on, stifling the burst of whispers, gasps and snickering that followed. "I don't know who started the rumor, and I really don't care. I do know, though, that some of you have reacted with a surprising amount of hatred to it.

"Bulstrode, Zabini, Edgecombe, Quirke, don't think that just because you've been too cowardly to say anything to my face that I can't recognize your voices. There are others, and I know you all. This is the _only_ time I'm saying this. Voldemort has tried to kill me a half dozen times. An army of Death Eaters is roaming Britain with orders to kill or capture me on sight. I've faced a dragon, a basilisk, and enough Dementors to make any one of you paralyzed with sorrow. If you think your sad little taunts from across a hallway are going to give me some kind of breakdown, you are as wrong as you are pathetic. I'll put up with it for now, because I have bigger things to worry about than any of you will ever amount to. But words like that hurt more people than just me, and eventually I _will_ tire of it. This is your only warning, so pay close attention. If I do choose to deal with you, I will not only stop the insults, I will take steps to make sure they cannot continue." Harry gave an edge of coldness to his voice as he met the eyes of the four he named. "There is a subtle difference between the two. If you lack the wit to figure that out on your own, it would be wise to ask someone to explain it to you. If I have to show you what I mean, it will be far too late for the information to help you."

Silence followed him to his seat, and he took his place calmly, though his mind was still screaming at him. Ron leaned over and whispered, "Mate, you've _got _to spend less time with Snape. That sounded just like something he'd say."

Harry looked at his friend in surprise, then burst into sudden laughter. Hermione and Ron joined in, breaking the tension in the room.

"What he doing?" Harry tilted his head in Severus's direction, unwilling to look over to the Professor's table. Ron glanced over Harry's shoulder.

"Nothing. Always looks the same to me, though, so who knows."

Harry chuckled and returned to his meal, choosing not to let the stunned expressions on many of his classmates affect him.

After lunch, Harry realized that his public announcement had an unexpected effect. Now, instead of talking about him, people wanted to talk to him about it. By far, the most common question was, "Who is your boyfriend?" Harry fended off the question, explaining that he did not want to say. He did tell people, however, that he was seeing someone who was a student, but not enrolled at Hogwarts. The attention worried him, though, and by the time he walked into the Potions classroom, he was worried about Severus's reaction. What if people started watching Harry more carefully now?

Severus was not in the classroom as the students filed in, but that was nothing unusual. Moments after the last student scurried into her seat, the door in the front of the room flew open with a bang and Severus, robes swirling, strode in coolly. He stopped before his desk without a word and stared at Harry. His face betrayed nothing, like carved marble, as his dark eyes locked Harry into his seat. Moments crawled by and Harry began to shift uncomfortably. "It seems we've found the reason for your penchant for the dramatic, Mr. Potter." His voice held just a hint of contempt, and the class, no longer expecting the man to verbally assault Harry at every turn, was taken aback. Harry glared back, not entirely sure if he was pretending to be angry or truly felt it. With a wave of his hand, Severus filled the blackboard with directions and ordered the class to begin brewing.

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"That was quite a show you put on today," Severus said as Harry hung his father's cloak up.

"Are you mad?" Harry asked, worried. "I should have talked to you before I said something. I know this affects you. But it's been horrible all week. I had to say something, and I didn't want to lie.

"You did what you felt you needed to. I understand you're dating someone at another school." Severus smirked.

"I didn't say that." Harry grinned back at the man. "I said I was seeing a student. You still study new potions, don't you? And I said you weren't enrolled here at Hogwarts, which you are not." He stood close to the man's chest and glared unconvincingly. "And how can you make one of your grand entrances into the dungeons and say I'm the dramatic one with a straight face?"

"I think you'll find, Mr. Potter, that I can do any number of things with a straight face."

"That sounds like a challenge, to me," Harry said playfully.

"You find most things challenging, do you not?"

Harry dropped on to the couch and looked over at Severus, amused. "You want a challenge, just try to sit next to me after saying that." He flipped open his textbook and turned to the chapter he needed to read. "So, was I convincingly threatening? Terribly scary and all that?"

"Oh, very," Severus replied. "Vague threats are always more intimidating. Those being threatened are free to imagine their own horrors rather than having them described."

"That's high praise coming from you," Harry observed. "Ron thinks I'm spending too much time with you. Said I sounded just like you at lunch."

"You do spend too much time with me," Severus replied, as the answer was expected. "However, if you had sounded just like me, at least three of the five students you named would have been crying."

Harry stretched his legs out on the couch as Severus moved to sit beside him. "Don't be boastful," he admonished. "It's unbecoming." The older man swept his legs off the cushion and settled next to him without a word.

They worked quietly for some time, Harry doing his reading, Severus muttering under his breath about rampant cerebral damage among fourth years as he marked essays. "Are you prepared for this weekend?" The man asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not much I can do to get ready, is there? You're making the Limbless' Draught?"

"It is made and waiting for you in the infirmary. Poppy will administer it. I was thinking, if you focus on the first Marking and return, the memory can be checked in the Pensieve immediately. It may be that you will only need to subject yourself to the one."

"Mdm. Pomfrey? You won't be there?" Harry frowned.

"The Headmaster wants most of the faculty patrolling the grounds. We do not want any students slipping away. Flitwick will be with you as well. He can check that the memory is complete and is not particularly suited to chasing students down."

Harry nodded and sighed, leaning against the man. "I'll manage. I always do."

"You are aware, I hope, that I . . ." Severus adjusted his robes around him, fussing with them. "That is to say, if I were able to . . ."

"I know you would," Harry said softly.

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With little information about the timing of the Markings, Harry was sent to the infirmary early Saturday warning. His friends would be allowed to visit, but every two hours, Harry would have to check on Voldemort. Before he went to see Mdm. Pomfrey, though, he sought out Severus, who was on his way to watch the gate to Hogsmeade.

"Hello, Professor," he called as he rushed out of the castle. Severus turned back and waited for him to catch up. They had not see each other since the night of Harry's outing. "I have something to give you. Well, lend you. Though I guess you might not give it back." He took out the Marauder's Map.

"I seem to recall already having confiscated that from you once," Severus observed dryly.

Harry ducked his head. "Yeah. Anyway . . . I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The ink appeared and Harry showed the paper to his teacher. "Mischief managed. It'll help you today."

"You are correct. I should not return this to you. For that matter, you should have given it directly to the Headmaster, as he is overseeing the faculty in our surveillance."

"I suppose. But I don't feel like talking to him right now. Anyway, I'd like that back when you're done with it, please. The Headmaster knows I have it, so you can't give me detention for it."

"I can give you detention for whatever I want. But I also knew you had this, if you recall. I was wondering if you would want to remind me of it, though. This only makes it easier for you to get into trouble."

"I haven't been getting into anything lately, and you know that. And the only reason I thought against giving it to you was the names written on it. I don't want to make you think about them. But it's important."

"It is. And this will help, thank you," Severus unfolded the map and glared at it. "Must I really say that ridiculous phrase?"

"It's the only one I've seen work. The ones you tried three years ago sure didn't." Harry grinned, Severus shifted his glare from the map to Harry.

"Go." The Potions Master's eyes swept across the many windows looking over them. "I will check on you when I am able."

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_The smell of burnt skin and muscled wafted around him like perfume. The flesh blistered and cracked as the Mark spread out from his wand, while the music of his newest servant's screams masked his whispered spells. This one would follow–another believer, having known no other lord than the one that was branding him as his own. _

Harry pulled himself from Voldemort's mind, just managing to roll over to the basin beside him as he threw up. A damp rag appeared at his elbow, and he took it gratefully, wiping his mouth.

"I think I saw it all," Harry said to Flitwick and shivered. "I hope I did."

The worried look Flitwick had had all day remained on his face as he fretted at Harry's bedside. "We'll take a look whenever you're ready, Mr. Potter. No rush. Take your time."

"I'm happy to be rid of the memory," Harry responded, taking his wand up and coaxing the thread from his mind. His stomach settled almost instantly.

Flitwick set the Pensieve on a stool and fixed his gaze on it. Pomfrey came in and fussed about Harry a bit; he assured her he was fine. Finally, the Charms Professor stirred again, looking like he may need his own basin.

"Well, it's a complete memory. A horrible one, but complete. We can keep it in the Pensieve if you'd like, for now. Professor McGonagall and I plan on going over it tonight she can help."

"No, I'll take it back," Harry responded, taking the silver bowl from the man. "If the bowl spilled or something, who knows when we'd get another chance." The short teacher nodded, but looked sorrowful as Harry slipped the memory back into his mind. "It's not that bad." Harry tried to reassure him. "It's not the worst memory I have from him." That only seemed to make the Professor even more upset, so Harry stopped talking.


	28. Chapter 28

Unforgivable Promises

**A/N**: I'm determined to finish this before HBP hits the stores here in the US. Anyway, here's the full version of chapter 28. If you read the teaser I posted, just scroll down a little bit and pick the story up from where I left off before. Once the story's done, I'm going to clean up the chapters so the little bit of 28 will go away and this will be left, so it's easier for me to just repost the first part again. Hope you all enjoy it. And thanks again for reading!

Aethen

Chapter 28

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Severus propelled the body of young Mr. Thomas up to the infirmary, telling himself that he chose the destination for the unconscious student's benefit rather than his own piece of mind. Reluctantly, he kept the boy from colliding with the walls too soundly. Depositing him in the nearest bed, he went to check on Harry. From across the room, he could see by the young wizard's complexion that the markings had been no easier to witness this time around.

"Are you well, Potter?" he asked, knowing that Filius beside him was as aware as the rest of the staff of their relationship, but still uncomfortable being too familiar with Harry in public. He trusted Harry would know he was concerned.

For his part, Harry nodded and looked up with a haunted look in his face. "I think I saw what I needed to. Professor Flitwick thinks so, too."

"Yes," Filius said. "We'll need to break everything down into component runes, of course, which will take some effort. But Mr. Potter remembered the entire process, start to finish."

"There is no need, then, for you to witness the rest of the ceremony tonight," Severus said, masking the relief in his voice. Harry nodded again, and gave him a weary smile. The Potions Master resisted the sudden desire to take Harry's hand, clenching his own in a fist.

"Has Miss Jones checked in yet, Filius? Or Albus?" He muttered scathingly when the answer came in the negative. "I left Mr. Thomas unconscious nearby. Would you be so kind, Filius, as to check that he is secure? I doubt he will awaken soon, but I want to take no chances."

"Is he hurt?" The other professor asked.

"Not by anything I cast on him, no." He watched Harry as he answered, wondering how the boy would take the news of a Gryffindor being caught out tonight. When Filius scurried off to check on the boy, Severus took the opportunity to brush Harry's bangs out of his eyes.

"You caught Dean," Harry said in something between a question and a statement. "It was just a matter of time, I guess."

"He was trying to leave the grounds, yes. Did you suspect him, then?"

"No," Harry replied. "I meant it was a matter of time before a Gryffindor joined him. Another Gryffindor, that is."

"You are right, of course, that Gryffindors will not be entirely unimpressed by the Dark Lord's promises. But I think Mr. Thomas should not incur your disappointment quiet yet. I suspect he was under Imperius."

Harry blinked, then his eyebrows rose. "Is that why you want Professor Jones here?"

"It is. Unless I have severely misjudged the boy up until now, he was not acting on his own."

"He could have started the rumors," Harry said. "He was in the dorm the night I was going to leave. Maybe he overheard something after you and the Headmaster left." Severus nodded thoughtfully in response. A loose end tied up neatly, perhaps. But an insignificant one.

Filius returned, and Severus found himself taking a step back away from the boy's bed without thinking about it. Harry's eyes darted to him before he asked, "When do you think you'll be able to work out the runes, Professor?"

Severus listened to the two talking and grew increasingly irritated. Runes had never held any interest to him, and in some great joke, they were now proving vital to his survival. If they had been discussing a potion, or even a spell or ritual, all of which he excelled at, he would be in a position to free himself. But he knew the Dark Lord's abilities far too well to believe he had any chance to decipher the glyphs scarring his arm. Filius and Minerva were his only hope. Minerva was going to be intolerable from now on. Intolerable.

As though the ghost of Godric Gryffindor was mocking him, the woman in question entered and inquired about Harry's success. With everyone satisfied with the Charms Professor's assessment of Harry's memory, she suggested the staff members return to their posts watching the grounds. Only Severus had found a student out of bounds, but no one felt secure assuming the incident was isolated. And Thomas did not account for the students who would go willingly to take the Mark.

"We've no idea how long the ceremony will be, so it's best that we continue with our watch," Filius said. "I can relieve Sinistra at the gate to Hogsmeade."

"I can check and see if the Markings are still going on," Harry said. Severus was rewarded with a wide-eyed look of surprise from the student when he growled at the suggestion.

"Absolutely not," the older man said. "Any would-be attendees would have no idea they were too late. If they're going to try to leave the castle, it does not matter if the Dark Lord is still doing the Markings."

"But-"

"The risk is high, the cost to you is high, and the benefit is nil. Your work is done for the night Harry." He ignored Minerva's approving look and summoned a bottle of Dreamless Sleep, leaving it beside the bed with a pointed look. "The Headmaster and Professor Jones will deal with Mr. Thomas, the rest of the faculty will secure the student body. You will get some rest." He was pleasantly surprised by the resigned nod he got from Harry before the three professors left him.

Severus continued to ignore the approving look Minerva was giving him.

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Having trusted the rest of his night to Severus's potion, Harry woke up the following morning to Madame Pomfrey's bustling entrance. "Awake, are you, Mr. Potter? You've missed breakfast, but we all felt it best not to wake you. You should be able to see yourself to Gryffindor Tower without trouble."

Harry nodded in response, still gathering his wits about him. "Are the professors still watching the grounds?" Harry asked, wondering if Severus would be in the dungeon. He saw by the empty beds in the room that Dean was no longer in the infirmary.

"Yes, and they will be until tonight," Pomfrey replied. "Except for Professor McGonagall, who went with the Aurors who came for Mr. Thomas." Not knowing what that news meant for Dean, Harry left the infirmary to find his friends.

The Gryffindor common room was abuzz when Harry entered, and everyone turned their attention to him when the portrait swung open to reveal him. Ginny cornered him before he could get too far into the room. "Dean's missing, Harry, and Dumbledore wouldn't tell me or Ron anything."

"I know," Harry said. "Where're Ron and Hermione? I don't want to talk about it where everyone can hear."

Ginny led the way to the boys' room, where Neville, Ron and Hermione were already seated, along with Seamus, who looked like he was working himself up into a fury.

"I can't believe they won't tell us where he is!" The boy muttered.

"He's okay," Harry said. "I saw him in the infirmary last night. Professor Snape found him wandering around the castle last night and thought he might be sick." He did not want to get into too many details while Seamus was still in the room. Judging by Ron's pale complexion and Hermione's wide eyes, though, he assumed they had figured out some of what had gone on.

"I should visit him, then," Seamus said. "I don't know why Dumbledore didn't just tell us that in the first place."

"Uh, I think it might be Wizard's Flu. Maybe he didn't want you to worry too much. He looked okay to me, though, but I didn't see him very long before Pomfrey took him to a private room. No visitors, you know."

"Oh, okay. As long as he's okay. Anyone going to the library, then? I have to do the Transfiguration essay." When everyone declined, he left the room, still muttering about Dumbledore.

"I can't believe Dean..." Ginny said, sitting down heavily on Harry's bed.

"Severus thinks it was Imperius," Harry said quickly, before realizing he had used the man's first name.

"He said that?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. He told me once before he had a pretty good idea which students would join up with Voldemort, and I guess Dean's not one of them. Besides, he's muggle-born." Harry frowned. "Voldemort was probably just using him to get to me. The Mark would have made it a lot easier to control Dean without Dumbledore noticing."

"Is he really in the infirmary?" Neville asked.

"No," Harry replied. "Not any more. Pomfrey said he was taken by Aurors. McGonagall's with him. I don't know where they took him, though."

"Probably the Ministry of Magic," Ron said with an air of authority. "The wizards at the Department of Magic Reversal will need to check him for charms and make sure the Imperius Curse is removed."

"I wish we could be sure," Hermione said, echoing everyone's thoughts. "Harry, maybe Professor Snape . . ."

"He's still watching the grounds, and I'm not sure where. I gave him the Marauder's Map, so I can't check that."

"You gave it to him!" Ron jumped out of his chair. "Listen, mate, I know..." He trailed off when his gaze swept over Neville and Ginny.

Grinning, Harry said, "I just loaned it to him for the weekend. He'll give it back. I think."

"He'd better," Ron muttered.

"Anyway," Ginny said, "if Dean was under Imperius, maybe You-Know-Who had him tell everyone about you being gay, Harry. Maybe he overheard something? Or found something in your trunk?"

"I don't have anything in my trunk that would make people think that. But he could have overheard that night..." He looked at Ron and Hermione, knowing they would recall the conversation they had had the night Dumbledore had forbidden him to see Severus.

"It's possible," Hermione said. "He could have come back and listened at the door after Ron and I were back in here. We can ask him. But that doesn't explain everything about that night."

Not liking keeping Ginny and Neville in the dark, but not wanting to tell even more people about his relationship without Severus's okay, Harry just shrugged and said, "We can ask him when he gets back. I want him to know there's no hard feelings if he did something under Imperius. Anyway, I didn't come here to tell you about Dean. Flitwick thinks I saw enough of the Marking for them to figure out all the runes."

"That's brilliant, Harry," Ron said, then looked sheepish. "Was it bad?"

"No worse than before. I knew what to expect this time, at least." Ginny gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I expect they'll want the memory later tonight when everyone's back."

"Do you think they'll let me see it?" Hermione asked. Harry hesitated.

"I don't know. Probably not, if I know McGonagall. Anyway, there's really no reason for you to see it. They'll figure out which runes are which, and once that's done, you can help with the research, right?"

"They might miss something, though," Hermione pointed out.

"They're professors," Harry snapped. "They're smarter than you are, you know. If they miss something, who says you won't too?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "They missed a lot of things over the years, Harry. You know that."

"Well, just let them do their jobs this time, okay?" Harry shot back.

"What's wrong with you, Harry? I'm not saying only I should see your memory. They'll see it, too, after all."

"I don't want you to see it," Harry said softly. "What's the point in me protecting everyone from Voldemort if everyone ends up feeling all the terrible things he does through my memories?"

"I want to help, too, Harry," she said. "I want to protect people too. And me seeing those things doesn't mean the rest of the world has to."

"I don't care about the rest of the world. I don't want my friends having the same nightmares I have."

"Okay," Hermione answered. "I won't if you don't want me to. They're your memories, after all. I'm sure Flitwick and McGonagall will have good notes."

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After a trip down to the kitchens for a late breakfast, the five Gryffindors made their way to the library. Harry wanted to fill Luna in on the night's events.

"I wonder if anyone else was caught," the unusual girl said after hearing what few details they had of Dean's capture. "All of the Ravenclaws were at breakfast. I don't know about Hufflepuff or Slytherin, though."

"We could ask Nott about Slytherin," Ron suggested. "I don't know who to ask in Hufflepuff, though. We probably shouldn't make too big a deal about it. No one else knows what's going on."

Harry agreed, trusting Severus would fill him in on any details later on, but he was impatient to find out what he could now. "Well, we'll all have to watch for Nott, then. But he's not here in the library, so I guess that means he's in the dungeons. Maybe we can catch him after lunch."

Harry did see Nott before lunch, though in retrospect he would have preferred to have waited. An hour into his Charms homework, Harry felt an unfamiliar tingle in his hand. Unused to the bracelet's call, it took the wizard a moment before he recognized the call for help. His heart was beating so hard, he was surprised Hermione, sitting beside him, could not hear it as he checked the band. _Nott_. The small arrow pointed toward the dungeon, and Harry tried to look calm as he pulled his cloak from his bag.

"I've got to go. Nott needs me," Harry said, tapping his bracelet. "Someone grab my books if I'm not back before lunch?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry rushed out of the library. The moment he was alone, he pulled the invisibility cloak over himself and took off at a run, checking his wrist at every turn to make sure his guess about the dungeons was correct.

Once inside the Slytherin common room, he halted. Nott was curled up on the couch, clutching his arm. And he was not alone. Several Slytherins were huddled around him looking concerned.

"We should take him to the infirmary," one young girl Harry did not recognize said. Harry blanched at the suggestion, worrying how he could get to the suffering wizard without bringing attention to himself.

"No!" Nott said, then shut his eyes against the dim light of the room. "I told you all to leave me alone."

His concerns were validated when a boy, a second year, Harry thought, said, "If he wants to suffer, let him. He brought it on himself."

_I definitely don't want that one seeing me,_ Harry thought. Carefully, Harry circled around to the back of the couch Nott was on. Kneeling down and leaning forward so his weight rested on the couch's back, Harry maneuvered himself and his cloak so his arm was covered. The couch would block his legs if the cloak slipped up too far, and as long as everyone stayed on the other side, he should be fine.

Nott let out a sudden gasp, prompting Harry to push his hand against the back of his neck. The familiar darkness, filled with pain, took him. He could feel Voldemort's anger. It was fresh, and Harry wondered what Nott had done to prompt an attack.

Harry regained control of his own body as Nott leaned forward. For a brief moment, the cloak slipped way from his hand, revealing a few fingers. Harry withdrew, watching the faces of the other Slytherins carefully, but no one seemed to have noticed the disembodied hand.

Nott straightened his robes and stood, "See? I told you I was fine. It was probably something I ate. Bloody House Elves." Another group of Slytherins came in and, noticing the group facing Nott, eyed the gathering carefully. Harry took the opportunity to slip into the hallway, trusting the other boy to handle whatever came next. With Voldemort's presence gone, there was little Harry could do without revealing himself anyway.

After lunch, Harry and his friend waited outside the Great Hall for Nott. As Harry had guessed he would, the wizard went straight to them as soon as he saw the group.

"Thanks," Nott said. "I tried to get back to my room, but I couldn't stand. And those stupid kids wouldn't leave me alone."

"No problem," Harry answered, noticing the boy did not ask how Harry had managed to slip in and out unseen. He wondered if it was because Nott was unwilling to pry, of if he thought Harry would not trust him with the answer. Feeling a need to extend some display of trust, Harry continued. "Invisibility Cloaks can be a real help sometimes."

Nott's eyes widened, "I guess so. You didn't have to tell me that, though."

Harry shrugged. "No, but I didn't have any reason not to either, did I? Anyway, do you have any idea why it happened today? He must have known it wouldn't work."

"I'm not really sure. Some of the Slytherins were acting funny this weekend. Maybe something was going on?"

Harry looked at his friends, who nodded in response. "Yeah, there was. We should have told you, I guess, but I didn't think he'd try anything. Let's go up somewhere quiet."

The Room of Requirement, as always, fit the bill, and soon the group was seated in comfortable couches.

Once Nott heard about the Durmstrang students and Voldemort's plans for the weekend, he nodded knowingly.

"A few Slytherins finally got around to asking me why I came back. I told them what I'd found out about Tom Riddle. I didn't tell them what you said the first day of school. I don't think that would have helped them believe it."

"I know what you mean," Harry said. "That's why I told all of you to look into it on your own."

"Anyway, like you said that day, it's not hard to figure things out once you know what to look for. So I guess they checked up on it and spread the word. I have a feeling a few of the older kids who were thinking about going there this weekend changed their minds. That's probably why he was mad at me. He didn't see some people he was expecting."

Harry agreed and added, "I'm really sorry I didn't warn you. I guess I figured you wouldn't want to know about things like that if you didn't need to."

"It's okay. I don't think knowing about it ahead of time would have made it easier." Staring at the ground and squeezing his forearm, he continued to speak. "I don't know how long I can keep going with this thing on me."

Hoping for the best, Harry suggested, "Maybe you should talk to Snape about it? He knows what it's like better than anyone."

"He wasn't much of a help when it happened. He was there, after all. Did you know that?" Nott shot back. Harry did know, of course, but he still had to be careful with his secrets.

"Others were there, too," Harry replied calmly.

"My mother told me Snape suggested me for the Marking," Nott muttered. "I never would have been there at all if it wasn't for that bastard."

"From what I understand, Malfoy did the suggesting. The students there that night were the ones he thought wanted the Mark the most."

"I had no idea what getting Marked was like. Who could want that?"

Choosing his words carefully, Harry replied, "A lot of people, it seems. You must have . . . That is, Voldemort must have thought so. And Malfoy."

"I didn't have much choice," he countered. A few moments later, he continued, calmer. "I never gave it much though. Malfoy talked about it all the time. He was always going on about how great it would be once _he_ won. I guess I just agreed because it was easier than arguing."

Hermione, seeing where Harry was going, added, "I don't mean this to be an insult, but you had everyone in Gryffindor fooled. You must have had your own House fooled, too. Maybe Professor Snape didn't stop you from being there because he thought it's what you wanted. He was still spying, then, after all. If he'd opposed Malfoy's choices, he'd have needed some proof that you weren't as loyal as Malfoy thought. And he wasn't really in a position to say that you being sane was evidence enough that you wouldn't want the Mark."

That last bit got a small chuckle from the boy, who quickly took on his usual stony expression.

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Severus folded Harry's map and, assuring himself he was alone, muttered the words to clear the parchment before slipping it inside his robe. Thomas was not the only student caught out of bounds over the past two days, but that was hardly unusual. Every weekend at least a half dozen young wizards tried to get away with something, which made culling the Dark Lord's followers from the imbeciles engaging in typical adolescent foolishness all the more difficult. In the end, Severus was left with nothing but the same suspicions he had had all along. Still, no one had managed to make it to the Dark Lord's ceremony, and that itself was a victory.

Outside the Great Hall, he found the Headmaster. "Any news on the Thomas boy?"

"He is recovering," the elder wizard replied. "He has been under the Dark Lord's control since almost the beginning of the term. I fear he will not return to Hogwarts for some months."

"What else was he exposed to?" Severus asked, knowing that the Imperius Curse would not cause effects that lingered for so long as to warrant an extended stay at St. Mungo's.

"That is not clear. I was hoping you might have some insight. It seems Voldemort is experimenting with some new dark spell."

"You know as well as I do, Headmaster, that I have not been privy to the Dark Lord's plans for some time. Had I heard anything of a new spell before the end of summer, I would have informed you."

"Perhaps, Severus. But I can no longer assume that you have been entirely up front with me, can I?"

"That was petty, Albus, and beneath you. Do you believe I risked my life countless times just to withhold information from you? Perhaps you believe I enjoy the Cruciatus Curse. I have told you everything of even remote importance with regards to the Dark Lord, and should I be in a position to find anything new, I will continue to do so. Anything else, however, is between me and Harry."

"Anything to do with Harry Potter is of importance with regards to Voldemort."

"You are overcompensating, Albus. For years, you abandoned him to his relatives, convincing yourself that a normal life was the best thing for him, and that the Dark Lord could wait. Now, when you look at Harry, you see only the prophesy and his place in it." He was still angry at the Headmaster for the recent accusations of manipulation, but he knew that he owed the man much. And he knew that when Harry got over his anger at the man as well, he too, would regret any permanent damage done to their relationship. "You care for him, Albus. As do I. But if you cannot accept that he is neither a normal young man nor a weapon, he will never again trust you."

Severus waited for a reply, but the old man seemed in no rush to give one. "If you wish me to examine the Thomas boy, let me know. There are potions to remove the taint of dark magic." With that offer, he turned to the dungeons.

Outside his door, the bust of Salazar muttered a greeting at him as he waited for the wall to fade away. "That boy was back, Severus," it said, as if the mere presence of someone in the hallway offended it.

"And did you not let him in?" Severus replied archly, reminding the obstinate piece of statuary of its place. He had, after all, rescued the bust from the purgatory of the east corridor's display case.

"Not _that _one, the other one," Salazar replied. Severus always suspected it enjoyed being difficult. "The one dumb enough to follow in your footsteps and kneel to that mudblood. I told him to come back later."

"Theodore Nott," Severus supplied, and then, because he knew how it ired the bust, added, "It is convenient how you forget that mudblood is your heir."

The bust snorted. "A technicality. Madness did not run in my family when I was alive. Besides, bastards don't count as real heirs, and that one probably comes from a long line of them."

"His parents were married, as far as I know. Though from what I understand, so were yours, and you have been called a bastard quite consistently since the school was founded."

"Hmph." The bust made a show of looking away, and Severus suspected that had the bit of stone possessed them, it would have crossed its arms in indignation.


	29. Chapter 29

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 29

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**A/N:** Well, I tried, but I couldn't make my deadline. I've got one more chapter to go, making a nice, even total of 30. Of course, HPB arrives tomorrow (here in the US), so I won't be finishing this story over the weekend. But I shouldn't take very long to get the job done. Thanks to everyone for reviewing. And at the risk of spoiling things, let me just say that I hope you all like the end of the chapter. I'm quite certain Severus and Harry did. Of course, that's assuming that someone will actually read THIS when they've got the real thing to look forward to:)

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As the student body shuffled lazily into the Great Hall on the Monday following the Dark Lord's Markings, Severus paid particular attention to the older members of each house. He was still not sure if he should be reassured or doubly worried that no obvious attempts were made to join Voldemort. Thomas's condition worried him, too, though he would never have used the term to himself or to others. And since Albus insisted on playing games, Severus turned to Hestia Jones for information.

"What is your opinion on Mr. Thomas's condition?" he asked, leaning close to the Defense teacher. A handful of snickers from the students revealed the persistence of the rumors Harry had found so amusing.

"I don't know what to think about it, really," Hestia answered. "Whatever magic is still on him is more stubborn than any I've seen. It doesn't seem to be doing anything at all, but it's definitely there. We can't determine what the effect is, or what it was meant to do, or if it's even a full spell or something left over from a ritual." She dropped her fork on her plate and pushed it away from her.

"I will talk to Albus about going to see the boy," Severus said, just making up his mind. Hestia shook her head.

"I already brought that up with him, and he seemed to think it was a bad idea. He says you can't leave without Harry, and Harry can't leave at all." Severus only growled in response. At least Albus was not taking his distrust of them too far. He knew the risk to him alone was high, and taking Harry out of the school was out of the question.

"What do you think about bringing the boy here, then? For an evening at most, so I may try some potions and see what I can make of this magic?" Severus asked. As the Defense teacher, Hestia was in the best position to advise Albus on how dangerous Thomas was to Harry and the school.

"With proper precautions, I would say it's worth trying. I would want to be there, of course, and Albus as well. Filius, too, maybe. Just in case."

Severus nodded in agreement. "And Mr. Potter safely stowed in some far corner of the castle. Perhaps you could suggest it to Albus. I do not know how open he is to my ideas right now. You may tell him you already have my cooperation."

Hestia agreed, and Severus's attention was drawn to the entrance of Nott. The boy slowed as he approached the Slytherin table, and Severus was quick to see why. The usual place left to him, the far end closest to the faculty table, was taken. That had been his de facto place since his return, until now. Though nothing showed in his face, he appeared to make up his mind about something as his pace returned to normal, heading to the far side of the table. Severus wondered if he was going to force the boy currently there, an unremarkable third year, into moving for him. But before the issue arose, several of the fifth years shifted their seats without a word, giving him a place next to the rest of the sixths. In typical Slytherin style, the boy was allowed back into Slytherin society, if not welcomed with open arms.

Satisfied with the outcome, Severus reflected on the conversation the two had had the previous night. Though the question of exactly why Severus had stood by while the Dark Lord scarred the boy did not come up, Nott had made it clear that he understood why Severus might have thought he wished to be Marked. For his part, Severus had divulged some of his own history and discovered that there had been no rumors at all, that Nott knew of, that Severus has not been totally loyal until the week before the summer ended. While immaterial at this point, Severus's pride was stroked to find out that he had played his part so well.

Nott had also told him about the part the boy had played in talking some sense into Slytherin House. He had to admire how Harry had planted the seeds of Riddle's history without saying too much. Anyone with half a brain would discount the rumors started by the Dark Lord's enemy, but discovering that knowledge on one's own could be very different. Nott believed that at least a half dozen students decided to stay in the past weekend because of it, and Severus agreed. How many would not be swayed, though–how many had been caught out of bounds with a plausible excuse, or knew better than to try to escape over the weekend–that was not clear at all.

At the moment, things were at a stalemate, but the Dark Lord seemed to be holding all the cards. The Ministry, despite Bones's competence, was still a lumbering beast, far too bogged down in its own bureaucracy to be of any real use. Any Aurors willing to do double duty in the Ministry and the Order already were. The general populace was useless. That left their side on the defensive with few ways to boost their power. The Dark Lord, though, was recruiting, and doing so actively. They had the power of dark magic to augment their natural abilities, and, more than anything else, they had time. If Voldemort believed he could win in an outright fight against Harry, he would wait for Harry to come to him, when he was in control. Soon, the attacks on innocents would become more frequent; Harry would start feeling the guilt that was always bubbling at the edge of his thoughts and seek to end the war quickly.

He needed to talk to Harry.

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Not far away, Harry was coming to the same conclusion as Severus. If the Dark Lord was stretching himself further into Europe, it could only mean he was planning something more aggressive than subtle plots on Harry's life. Harry felt every loss Voldemort caused, and he was sure Voldemort knew that. As long as things remained as they were, Harry was at a disadvantage. The training with Hestia and Severus was invaluable, but Voldemort was stronger than both of them. And while Severus seemed to think that Harry possessed as much raw power as Voldemort, Voldemort was certainly more skilled. Harry wondered if Severus should be teaching him the Killing Curse.

He was bolstered, though, by Nott's entrance into the hall and the reaction of the Slytherin table. A small triumph, perhaps, but better than nothing.

After breakfast, Luna joined them in the hallway as they walked to class. Holding hands with Neville, she gave Harry one of her strange smiles. "I heard some interesting rumors this weekend. Lots of Ravenclaws wanted to know who Tom Riddle was. Especially the ones with friends in Slytherin."

"I bet they did," Ron said. "You-Know-Who was pretty mad at Nott the other day. Wasn't he, Harry?"

"Sure was," Harry responded. "I don't think Nott minded too much, either. He seemed to think it was worth it."

"Well, from what I heard," Luna added, "Slytherins think he did a lot of them a favor. They don't know how he's lived this long, but they're glad he brought up Riddle _before _this weekend. Not everyone's happy, though."

Harry thought back to that second year watching Nott suffering in the Slytherin Common Room and nodded. Voldemort still had supporters here; he was sure of it.

Classes went by in the manner they typically do when one's attention is on anything but the material being studied. Harry spent most of the day wondering about whether or not his memories of the Marking had been any help. Until Transfiguration, he had not been sure if anyone had even looked at them. After class, McGonagall assured him that she and Flitwick had taken a first look at them last night and would be doing a more detailed study that evening. Hermione offered to help take notes, but as she had already promised Harry she would not actually view the memory, he trusted her to keep her word.

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Severus watched the students file out of the last class of the day, noting, without looking directly at him, that Harry was lingering, pretending to be searching for something in his bag. When they were alone, he waited to see if Harry wanted to stay in the classroom or return to his room. The glittering sheen of his invisibility cloak answered the question, and Severus led the way.

Once his door closed, Severus felt familiar arms around him, and disembodied mouth pressed a kiss to his lips as Harry's head appeared. Severus greeted him by pulling him into his arms and deepening the kiss. It was unusual for them to pass an entire weekend without being alone together, and he found he missed Harry after only a few days.

"I missed you," Harry said.

"That is hardly surprising. My company is in high demand," Severus replied. He went into the kitchen as Harry sunk on to the couch. "Your map is on the mantle beneath that hideous lacquer affair." He could hear Harry's laugh cover the sound of the young man rising to retrieve the parchment."

"Thank you," Harry called to him. "And I'm glad to hear you think that thing's hideous. I didn't want to say anything. What is it?"

"I have no idea," Severus answered, returning to the main room with two teacups. "Art, one presumes." Harry grinned and took a cup from him.

"Since you brought it up, is there a reason that all your–uh, art–is so. . ."

"Tacky is the word you are looking for. And it is mine only in so far as it has been forced upon me over the course of several years. My cousin insists on buying me the ugliest pieces of trash she can find. The tragedy is that, as far as I can tell, she sincerely believes they are attractive."

"Really?" Harry asked, gawking at a mother-of-pearl monstrosity set just far enough up on the bookcase as to be easily ignored. "Why keep it out if you don't like it? And here I just thought you had bad taste."

"My poor taste extends only to the company I keep. Unfortunately, she visits now and then and seems to have inventoried everything she has ever forced on me."

Harry's grin warned Severus of an upcoming barrage of sentimentality. "I assume you wish to hear about your housemate," he said before Harry could start.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked. Severus filled him in on what little he knew and Hestia's agreement that Thomas might benefit from his expertise. "Can we come see him if Dumbledore says it's okay?"

"That depends on the nature of the magic still on him. But assuming I find no threat, and both the Headmaster and Professor Jones agree, then yes, you may." That earned Severus another kiss, which was not particularly surprising, as just about anything did that while they were alone.

When Harry pulled away, Severus could see the young man's nervousness in his eyes. "Severus, can I ask you something? About us?" Harry tried for a lighthearted chuckle and added, "You can always not answer, after all."

"I think we are beyond the point where I can just refuse to answer," Severus said, not sure if that would reassure Harry or not. Aside from that first evening when Severus told Harry he could join him here in his rooms whenever he liked, they had not really spoken about their relationship.

"I guess. . ." Harry trailed off. "I was just wondering why. . . I mean, do you, you know, wish I was older?"

"Some things would be simpler if you were older," Severus answered. "I am sure you realize that. But by the same token, they would be just as easy if I were younger."

"I don't mean easier with other people–Dumbledore and I guess the press, too, if they find out."

"I am not sure what you are asking, Harry."

Harry looked down at his hands and as he spoke, a pink blush rose from his neck. "Would you find me more, you know, attractive, if I wasn't so young?"

Severus reached out to run his finger along Harry's reddening jaw and lifted his chin so he could look in his eyes. "Did something give you the impression that I don't find you attractive enough as you are?"

"Well, I just feel like I'm always, you know, starting stuff. And you never seem to want to take things further than kissing." Harry's blush deepened, and Severus resisted the urge to change the subject again.

"It seems to me I rarely have time to start anything. You are usually invisible when we come in here. If my enthusiasm in returning your kisses did not suffice, let me assure you I do find you attractive, and I do enjoy the physical aspect of our relationship."

"But. . ." Harry prompted.

Severus shook his head. "And. And when the time comes, I am sure I will enjoy what comes next." Rather than watch him ruin his robe by picking at a loose thread, Severus took Harry's hand in his. "I told you, that night we kissed, that I was worried I would rush you into something you were not ready for. I have been letting you set the pace of our relationship."

"Oh." Harry smiled at him and he gave his hand a squeeze. The young man's blush returned in a rush as he spoke again, "What if I don't know how to . . . change the pace?"

What Harry was asking was not lost on Severus, but as he considered how to answer, he was interrupted by the obtrusive arrival of a Messenger spell.

Harry saw the dart, too, though the message was heard only by Severus. "Minerva has news," Severus told him. "The workroom off the library." Harry nodded anxiously and grabbed for his invisibility cloak. Watching him gather his bag, the Potions Master stopped him before he could pull the cloak around him.

"Harry," Severus was caught in the bright green eyes of the young man he had come to care so much for. It was suddenly important for him to say this _before_ he found out what Minerva and Filius had found out. "Not matter what this is about, I want to thank you. No one has ever suffered so much for me." He cut off Harry's protest with a raised hand. "I regret nearly everything that happened between us before this past summer. And nothing since." Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, and Severus felt trapped by the emotion he could see there. With a kiss, he reached around and pulled the cloak over Harry's head and opened the archway in the wall. "Come," he said and slipped out of the room, satisfied that he had told Harry what he needed to and relieved he had escaped the aftermath.

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Harry ducked behind a statue outside the library and pulled off his cloak. Severus was already inside, so he hurried to catch up to him, hoping as he did so that his expression would not betray too much to his other professors. He was not sure why his fears about Severus's attraction to him had surfaced so suddenly, but he suspected it was tied to his realization that morning that Voldemort was gathering his power for more aggressive maneuvers. And because of that, Severus's words before they left his rooms had meant so much. No matter what came next, the time they had had together so far had not been wasted for either of them.

In the workroom behind the tapestry, Severus and the other professors were leaning over a wide parchment spread across the table. Harry could a series of runes traced along it, with notes beneath each in Hermione's neat hand. Letting the elder wizards work, Harry went over to his friend. "Well?"

Hermione smiled back at him, and his beat faster with anticipation of good news. "We–they–learned a lot. No one's every done anything this complex before, which is hardly a surprise, so they're not entirely sure about some things. But I think they've worked out most of it."

"Can the Mark be broken, then?" That was really all Harry cared about. He was not interested in discussing how innovative Voldemort's approach had been.

"They think so, but there're some problems."

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, why don't you join us?" Professor McGonagall said, waving them to the table. "As I was telling Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick and I believe we have isolated all of the runes. None are new to us, but he has used them in ways we have never seen."

"The good news is," Flitwick added, "all the questions I had about the Mark before are answered. This series of runes accounts for all the things the spells did not."

"And the bad news?" Severus asked with little inflection.

"We can see no way to remove the runes without killing the subject," McGonagall said sadly. Nausea swept over Harry, and he stumbled into a chair. Severus was expressionless, but he knew the man would be mourning the same loss of hope he was.

"No," Harry said. "That can't be right. There has to be a way."

"I'm sorry, Harry. This part of the rune pattern we understand all too well. It's the same magic that Gringotts uses to secure dangerous artifacts. Any attempts to remove the runes would be disastrous."

"I had suspected as much," Severus said, still masking his feelings. "Thank you all for your effort. Perhaps Albus can find some use for this information still." He gave Harry an unreadable expression, his eyes dull, and Harry felt his insides wrench. Making noises of agreement, Flitwick and McGonagall gathered up the parchments.

"I'll stay here," Harry said, a half-formed thought passing through his head. "I don't really feel like going up there now," he said in response to Severus's questioning gaze. With a nod, Severus left, followed by the other faculty members.

"Oh, Harry-" Hermione started, but Harry interrupted her.

"Voldemort could remove it," he said. "I mean, we don't know for sure, but it wouldn't make any sense for him to not have a way to remove it, right? That's what started this whole idea. That part hasn't changed."

"What are you talking about, Harry? It's not as if we can ask him to just let Professor Snape go. Professor McGonagall is right. These runes are like. . ." She threw up her hands in frustration. "It's like a door with a handle on just one side. Once it's closed, that's it. You can't get in unless you break the door down, and that would kill him."

"Unless you're on the inside," Harry reminded her. "Or had a way to get inside without using the door."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Harry, you can't be serious. Maybe if you could possess him. Like completely possess him, and force him to cast the right spells. But we don't know enough about your scar to know if you can do this without killing Professor Snape. If _you _were Marked, you might be able to break it yourself, but that's different."

Harry sighed and kicked the table leg. "There has to be something, Hermione. There's an answer in all of this, I know it." They sat in silence for a time before Harry stood. "I'm going to wait in the dungeon. Can you tell Ron about everything?"

He did not bother with any lights, preferring to sit in the darkness, stretched out on Severus's couch and staring up at the ceiling. It was just like with the runes hidden in the Mark. The answer was in front of him, he just could not see it. Not quite. But as the evening slipped away, a few ideas emerged.

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Harry woke with a stiff neck and an unfamiliar heavy blanket spread on top of him. His pillow was too hard, too. Keeping his eyes closed and trying to regulate his breathing to mimic sleep, he tried to take in his bearings.

"Not an entirely poor attempt at subterfuge," Severus's welcome voice reminded him of where he had fallen asleep the night before. "The difficulty, though, is the change in your breathing between when you wake up and when you decide to pretend you are still asleep."

Harry pushed off the blanket and sat up, noticing that his robe and shoes were missing, though he was still wearing the clothes he had underneath. "I guess I'm not paranoid enough yet, then. How did you get my shoes off without waking me?"

Severus set his tea down and displayed his wand. "It may have escaped your attention, what with all the excitement of your celebrity filling the past six years, but I am a wizard."

"Are you always this mean in the morning?" Harry located his glasses and sat at the table next to the Potions Master, batting his eyelashes innocently as he kissed the man's cheek.

"Yes."

Harry stretched and yawned. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. I thought you might like some company last night."

"Albus wanted to inform the Order immediately."

"So there was something useful in all those runes after all?"

"Of course," Severus answered. "If the right spell or spells can be found, we have a new weapon against the Dark Lord. Cast the right dispelling charm, shred the runes, and Mark will do the Aurors' work for them."

"I meant useful for you," Harry said, now concerned about Severus's vulnerability to the same kind of attack.

"There are more important issues at hand, Harry. Give up on this one and focus on what's more important."

"I'm not breaking my promise to you."

"And I told you not to promise me anything, remember?"

"Well, I did anyway," Harry muttered.

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Halfway through Charms, the twelve different thoughts Harry had going through his head all stuck in the same place. The Prophesy and every encounter he had ever had, going back to the night his parents were killed, all came down to his scar. The scar and the bond were what made Harry so unique. Yes, he had power, but so did Dumbledore. It had all started with the bond, and Harry realized that it would end it, too. The only question was how to use the scar without doing as much damage to himself as he did to Voldemort. And if that was not possible, to make sure he did enough damage to take them both out.

At lunch, he quizzed Hermione on the runes that protected the Mark. All of her answers convinced him, as she had hoped, that trying to break Severus's Mark would be fatal. The process, she explained, was simple enough. And unbinding rune set across the proper area would cause a reaction that would send the combined magic of all the runes back into the person bearing the Mark. No chance of survival, and no way to reverse the effect once it was started. That was, after all, the point of those particular runes.

Satisfied, Harry let the matter drop. At the end of the meal, Severus rushed from the Great Hall while McGonagall strode over to their table. She told them that Dumbledore had invited the trio, alone with Neville and Seamus, to visit Dean up in his office. They all agreed, of course, and were soon on their way to the gargoyle.

"Hey mate," Ron called as they all piled in to the cluttered room. To Harry, Dean looked fine; his eyes certainly lit up upon seeing his friends. Harry gave him a cheerful wave, but when their eyes met, Harry saw a flash of red before the boy dropped to the floor, doubled over and clutching his head.

The sound he made was horrible, and Harry knew only Voldemort could cause the kind of pain that elicited such a cry. Harry went to rush forward, but was dragged back as Severus nearly tossed him into a chair and pushed his way to the suffering student. He was carrying a large case with him, and his wand was out as he and Pomfrey, whom Harry had not noticed earlier, began casting spells at Dean.

"I can't find anything physically wrong with him, Severus," Pomfrey said. "And he's got no magical sickness that I can tell.

"It's a curse," Severus said simply. "Where the hell is Albus?"

Harry did not wait to hear her response. Instead, he sought his own answers.

_Grey and black shadows moved across the mirror like silhouettes. "Potter was there, but I cannot see him now." _

_"What about the spell, my Lord?" Wormtail was groveling at his feet again. The putrid thing never stopped groveling. _

_"I saw paintings of dead Headmasters. They are in __his_ office," he replied, loathe to even think the man's name. "The wards there are too strong to break entirely." 

_"And if they had been elsewhere?" _

_"Potter would be dead by now. We will have him, soon, then. First, this tool must die. Another body can be arranged, one that will not be confined to the Headmaster's office." He turned his attention back to the mirror, where dull shapes still crowded around the mirrors center. As they moved, flashes of another, much clearer, figure caused his hatred to boil. Potter. __He_ was clear enough in the mirror, but that did little good if the Apparition wards were still firm. Then, suddenly, flaring white light nearly blinded him, coming from just behind the cursed boy. Pain shot through him, and he screamed, tearing his vision from the glass. 

Harry shot up in his seat, panting. Everyone was staring at him. No, not at him, but behind him. Twisting around, he saw Dumbledore, wand out, firmly chanting a string of spells. _That explains the white light,_ he thought. Everyone jumped when Dean started to sit up.

"Bloody hell," he said, his whole body shaking. He looked up to see Snape bending over him. "Sorry, Professor. What happened?"

Severus moved aside, leaving the explaining to Dumbledore as he and Pomfrey started with a new set of spells.

"It appears, Mr. Thomas, that the mysterious magic that had been lingering indeed had a purpose. If I am not mistake, though, the darkness has left you.

Pomfrey and Severus both agreed, and Professor Jones was summoned just to be sure. Once the Defense instructor declared him as free of Dark Magic as she could be sure of, he was carried off to the infirmary. Harry motioned for Severus to remain, though, and he asked for a moment to speak to the Headmaster.

Knowing he was in for a lecture from both Dumbledore and later, Severus, Harry confessed to his piece of spying and described what he had seen. "Whatever you did, sir, that scared off the Dark Lord. But he's going to try again, and he seems to think it'll work outside the office."

"I see," Dumbledore replied. "It does make sense now, I am afraid. I have never seen a linking spell so well masked, but clearly that is what was used. When the Dark Lord saw you, Harry, that must have triggered the spell."

"There is more to it, though," Severus said. "Well hidden is one thing. But the power to breach the wards? If the Dark Lord was concerned about Apparition, he must have planned on using the linking spell to send himself, or Death Eaters, into Hogwarts. While plausible in general. . ."

"It should not be possible through the wards, even those outside this office," Dumbledore said. "Unless the spell has an usually strong supply of power. Just enough to cause a moment's breach in the wards at a particular spot."

"The darkest kind of magic," Severus said, his voice hard and cold. Harry looked to him, confused, and he continued. "The spell would have used Thomas's energy to break through the barriers. It would have drained him completely."

"It would have killed him?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer. Severus nodded.

Harry left the two older men to talk and went to join his classmates. Voldemort's hissing stayed in his ears. He would try again. It was just a matter of time.

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The idea that Voldemort was coming for him was not terribly new to Harry, and despite his nerves after lunch, he had returned mostly to his own self by the time Potions class came around. Watching Severus glide about the room, Harry felt himself less and less able to worry about the future. Severus's words from the night before were still with him, giving him a heady feeling.

Before class ended, Severus had quietly asked him to visit his rooms after dinner. Harry probably would have anyway, but his heady feeling grew when Snape had whispered the invitation. "If you can, would you come to the dungeons after dinner?" The question was simple enough, but with Severus, of course, the differences were subtle. "Please see me after dinner," sounded like a polite request, but it heralded a serious discussion, or additional defense lessons. It was used for Order business and planning. "If you can," meant it was about them, and just them, and Harry felt quite strongly that it was not used often enough.

And, deciding that if Severus was not worried overly much about the newest development with Voldemort, then he would not be either, Harry took only his cloak with him as he hurried to the dungeons after dinner.

Severus was waiting for him, of course, as the wall solidified behind him. Hanging the cloak up, he looked fondly at the other man. He looked different than he had at dinner. Had he combed his hair again? Yes, Harry thought he did, but that was not all. His robes were different. They were darker, somehow. And finer.

Dutifully, and hoping to get the subject out of the way quickly, Harry asked, "Did you and the Headmaster talk about anything I need to know?"

"No," Severus said simply. "We discussed strengthening the wards. We cannot duplicate the strength of his office's protections, but you should avoid people who are suddenly overcome by pain. But in truth, there is little to be done aside from what we are doing. Your combat training continues, and you will continue to move about the school with the care you have shown so far."

Harry nodded, having come to much the same conclusion. He stepped closer to Severus and reached out to feel his sleeve. "You look good in these. Is this a special occasion?"

Severus replied by closing the distance between them and pulling Harry into a kiss. Sinking into the sensation of his mouth being explored, Harry let himself go, content to simply feel.

As the man's lips moved from his, Harry moaned softly, tilting his head and exposing his neck. Severus had never been so aggressive, taken such liberties. Always, Harry had begun such explorations, though Severus was never long to follow.

With a wave of his hand, Severus dimmed the lights in the room, leaving them illuminated only by the glow coming from the bedroom. Harry turned to gaze at the bed surrounded by floating candles. Strong arms slid down his arms from behind, then crossed his mid section and slowly made their way back up. With a gasp, Harry felt them slip inside his shirt, and rough, gentle hands caressed his abdomen.

Severus's low voice sent a shiver down his spine as he felt the man's breath on his neck. "I was given the impression last night that while you are not quite ready to take the lead. . ." He trailed off, leaving Harry trembling at the possibilities left unsaid. The hands on his stilled, lifted so they were barely touching his skin. "If I was wrong. . ." The promise there, unsaid, that Severus was loathe to hurt him, was more of an aphrodisiac than the nimble fingers that had so recently been teasing him.

Harry shook his head. "No," he answered, leaning his head back until his came into contact with Severus's shoulder. "Not wrong." Then he could not speak. His earlobe was sucked between warm lips while Severus's left hand inched up his torso.

Then the other hand started moving.


	30. Chapter 30

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 30

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Harry drifted up from sleep slowly. As his senses took over from his dreams he was first aware of Severus's slow breathing not far from him. The feeling of contentment he had been enjoying slipped quickly into excitement as his memories of last night returned. The last thing he remembered of the evening was falling asleep with an arm draped across Severus's bare chest. At some point during the night, both of them must have shifted—Harry to one side of the bed, Severus to the other. Grabbing his wand and glasses from the table beside him, he pulled the covers up over his head and cast _lumos _to check the time on his watch. He wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Severus, but prudence won out.

Sitting up slowly to avoid waking up the other man, Harry slipped out of bed, grabbing his pile of clothes along the way, and stepped quietly through the doorway into the living area. After dressing in the dark, he cast another light spell in order to leave a short note.

"Woke up at half-four," he wrote. "Thought it best to get back before everyone was up. See you later, and tonight I hope." He struggled with how to sign in. "Love, Harry" didn't feel right. He'd never said it to the man; it felt wrong signing it on such a simple note. And did he love Severus? Just "Harry" seemed silly. Who else would have written it? In the end, he left it unsigned. It would not be much of a mystery anyway.

Checking the map he had retrieved from Severus, Harry noted that the castle had not yet stirred for the morning, and he took his time getting back to Gryffindor Tower. The question of love flitted through his mind. Despite the time he had spent thinking about what Severus meant to him, Harry had not really thought about it in terms of love. He worried he had too little to compare it to. This was not how he felt about Ron or Hermione, or even Sirius, but that was hardly a surprise. He had certainly never thought of doing with Ron or Sirius what he had just done with Severus. That thought made his mind turn to the memories of the past evening.

He was surprised, and pleased, at how quickly he had gotten past his own uncertainty and hesitation. Severus had been gentle and caring, but that was no surprise to Harry. But he had been worried that everything would be awkward the first time. It had been at first. Trusting Severus completely, though, Harry had felt bold enough to take some initiative and knew that as great as it had been, it would only get better.

Back in the tower, Harry slipped quietly into bed. He had become an expert on sneaking back into his own room. His roommates would know he had been out late, but he doubted any of them would realize just how late at night, or early in the morning, it was when he returned.

Sleep escaped him, though. His night with Severus was not the only thing on his mind, and the situation with Dean still troubled him. Once Harry had been able to shed some light on the nature of the magic on Dean, Dumbledore had succeeded on dispelling it. At least it was removed as far as anyone could tell. But it was clear that Voldemort would try again. Harry knew Dumbledore and the teachers were worried about the possibility that, outside of the Headmaster's office, the spell would work. Hestia Jones had suggested a complete ban on anyone leaving or entering Hogwarts in order to prevent Voldemort from getting the spell on someone else. But that was a temporary solution at best. They could not reasonably keep up the restriction past the end of the term. Either Voldemort would quietly abduct another student, or some misguided would-be Death Eater would volunteer. In fact, Harry suspected that those followers of Voldemort's with children in Hogwarts were vying for the chance to offer their son or daughter up as a sacrifice.

What little time he had was running out. He did not even have a clear plan on what he would do if Voldemort managed to force a confrontation. A piece was still missing. His thoughts chased each other until finally the sun stepped over the window sill and his roommates began to stir.

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"You're back, then?" Seamus called to Harry as he got out of bed, giving him a knowing look. "Spent the night under Orion's Belt in the Astronomy Tower?"

Harry turned quickly to retrieve his robes, hiding the blush he knew was rising up cheeks, and called over his shoulder, "Why, are you jealous? Orion's got enough keeping that belt up to go around. I can introduce you if you'd like."

"Ha! He wishes," Seamus said before heading out to breakfast. Harry noticed Ron hanging back and hurriedly started dressing. The two walked to breakfast in silence. Ron seemed, well, not annoyed, but preoccupied as well as tired. He yawned four times before they had descended from the tower. And Harry had too much filling his mind to feel the need to fill the silence.

During the meal, Professor McGonagall came to the table to tell the students that Dean Thomas had been transferred to St. Mungo's. She assured them that he was recovering but was still under observation. Harry took that to mean that they believed the spell had been completely removed, but were still not ready to risk him returning. He supposed that was better than nothing.

Once they had done eating, Ron rose quickly and looked over to the staff table. "Go ahead to class without me," he said to no one in particular. "I need to talk to Professor Snape about something." Without even a glance at Harry, Ron approached the Potions Master who had already started to leave the room.

Later that day, Harry used the anonymity granted by a hallway filled with chattering students to bring up Ron's conference with Severus.

"What did you need to talk to Professor Snape about?" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant and guessing he was failing at it. Hermione leaned over curiously as he asked, letting him know that she, too, was out of the loop.

"Oh, nothing much," Ron said cheerfully. The volume of his voice lowered, but the tone remained the same as he continued. "Just one of those chats a man has to have with his best friend's guy."

Harry suddenly regretted bringing it up in the hallway, since he knew he could not risk asking for more details. His mind raced. Did Ron know what had happened between them? Had he threatened Severus? Harry knew Ron would not accuse Severus of anything, but he could definitely imagine Ron warning the Potions Master of what would happen if he hurt Harry. It sounded like typical Ron behavior, in fact. How long had Severus laughed at that?

"Don't worry," Ron said, slapping Harry on the back. "It's nothing bad. We're in complete agreement on this, it turns out. I'm sure he'll fill you in later. Bad idea to discuss it here, though." Ron grinned at him, knowing it would drive him crazy until he saw Severus alone tonight.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Entering Severus's rooms behind him, Harry dropped his cloak the instant the door reformed. He stepped up to Severus without a word and went for the man's lips. With his mouth preoccupied, his hands began working the buttons of the other man's robes. Now that he knew what he—what they both—wanted, Harry had no trouble initiating things.

Later, once both their needs had been satisfied, Severus had announced the evening far too young for them to both to remain in his bed, so they both dressed again and took their familiar positions on his couch.

"Weasley and I had a chat earlier today about your visits to me." Severus said after a few moments. Despite what Ron had said about an agreement, Harry braced for the worst. He was glad Severus had at least waited before bringing it up.

"Oh, Merlin," Harry said. "What did he do?"

Severus grinned at his obvious discomfort and continued. "It would appear that your late return last night caused your friend some concern. He does not approve."

"He didn't call you anything really bad, did he?" Harry asked. He remembered what Ron had said weeks ago, about how he would never think anyone was good enough for Harry.

"On the contrary, he conducted himself quite well. I was impressed. And I agreed with him."

Harry eyed Severus skeptically. "Agreed with him about what?"

"I agreed with Weasley that you have not been keeping your promise to him to be safe in the hallway. Given what happened with Mr. Thomas, the assumption that Hogwarts cannot be compromised is foolhardy."

Harry started to protest. He thought he had made it clear that no amount of danger would let anyone take what he and Severus had away from them. Before he could get a word out, though, Severus pressed two fingers against his lips, stopping him from speaking.

"As Mr. Weasley pointed out, when you follow me here from the Potions classroom, he and Miss Granger know where you are going, and I am escorting you. However, since you do not always return to the Tower at the same time, he has no idea when to expect you to return." Severus shifted, discomfort showing on his face as he continued. "And I have assumed so far that when you leave my rooms, you successfully find the Tower. If you did not have your cloak and the map, I might have worried more, but it always seemed reasonable that you were safe. May I see your bracelet?"

Harry nodded and tugged it free. It enlarged just enough for him to slip it past off. Severus accepted it, holding it in his open palm while quietly reciting a spell over it. "Tap it with your wand," Severus said. Curious, Harry obeyed, no longer quite so worried that there was another plan afoot to separate them. Severus continued casting spells, then spoke again: "Now with the other wand." Again, Harry obliged. The older man handed the bracelet back to Harry before pulling off his own ring and restarting the process. This time, however, he tapped the ring with his own wand rather than having Harry do it.

Slipping the ring on, Severus touched his wand to the ring and Harry felt his bracelet respond. Rather than the tingling, however, Harry felt a pleasant warmth spreading along his arm. "Touch the bracelet with your wand and activate it the same way you have before," Severus instructed. Harry tried it and felt nothing, but Severus nodded, satisfied.

"There. When you return to the Tower tonight, and any other night, you will let me know you are safe. And if I ever need to send you the same message, I will do so."

"That's brilliant," Harry said, smiling broadly. "Then I can't mistake it for an emergency."

"Exactly," Severus said, settling back and pulling Harry against him. "Mr. Weasley indicated he would be satisfied knowing that I'm responsible for you when you're returning to the Tower."

"He said that?" Harry sat up and looked at Severus, surprised.

"Yes, when I told him what I had planned, he said that would be fine. He will be able to sleep knowing that you are at least accounted for between here and there. The only other option would be for him to come fetch you. Which he probably would do." Severus snorted.

"Huh," was all Harry said. He was surprised, and quite pleased, to find out that Ron trusted Severus so much with Harry's safety.

"I must admit, I was impressed. It's no secret he sees himself as your protector, but at the same time, I think he wanted to let you have your privacy. It cost him something, I think, to let you have this as your own."

Harry returned to his place against Severus's chest. "I don't deserve such good friends."

"You deserve smarter friends," Severus corrected. "But no, you deserve the friends you have."

"I hope it was okay that I left last night. I guess you saw the note. I didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother," Severus replied, running his fingers along Harry's temple. "The note was welcome, though. Waking up alone after one's first time with someone can cause . . . worries."

"Well, my love 'em and leave 'em days are behind me," Harry said playfully. "Sorry, but you're not a one night stand."

"If you knew any better, you'd-"

"Don't," Harry said softly. "I know you'll say you're kidding, but sometimes it sounds like you believe it when you talk like that. So please don't. You said it yourself. I know your crimes. No one knows better than I do. And I'm staying."

"So be it," Severus replied.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour later, Harry was still on Severus's couch but was now working on his Charms essay. Severus was in his workroom preparing ingredients when Salazar's face appeared in the wall. It took a moment to glare at Harry for no particular reason before shouting, "Snape! The bushy Gryffindor is looking for you. Bring your catamite."

Severus appeared at the doorway to his workroom almost instantly, his wand drawn and pointed at the wall. "Use that word again, and I'll see you ground into dust, do you understand me?" His voice was flat and cold, and as deadly serious as Harry had ever heard it. The face sunk back into the wall in response.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Severus suggested to Harry that they report to the Headmaster's office. Speechless, Harry nodded and they left, but not before Severus gave Harry's hand a comforting squeeze. He did not know what to say about the bust's words, but judging by the look on Severus's face, bringing it up would be a bad idea anyway.

In the Headmaster's office, Harry and Severus found Hermione, Flitwick and McGonagall waiting for them along with Dumbledore. Whatever was going on, Harry assumed it had something to do with the Mark. When the stepped into the room, Harry could see that Hermione's eyes and nose were red and swollen.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione jumped up from her seat and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She started crying again, and Harry put her arms around her gingerly, a feeling of terror coming over him. The professors looked uncomfortable, but by no means as distressed as his friend.

"What exactly is going on here?" Severus demanded. "What's got the girl in hysterics?"

"Miss Granger, that will do," McGonagall said, seeing Harry's distress and trying to get Hermione off of him. "No one is immediate danger, I assure you both." McGonagall got Hermione back into her chair. She had stopped crying again, but was still visibly upset.

"We've, uh, or rather, Miss Granger, to be precise, has discovered something in the runes we had missed earlier," Flitwick said, stepping over to the table to retrieve a paper. "This here," he continued, showing the paper to both Harry and Severus. "We thought it was another standard binding rune. One of the older ones. But Miss Granger reviewed our notes of the Markings and, quite correctly, realized we were mistaken. These lines here are formed much later, so they're not really a part of it."

"As interesting as this is," Severus said, "please get to the point. Neither Mr. Potter nor I are experts in runes. Whatever is obvious to you is not obvious to us."

"Yes, of course. My apologies. This rune is usually used as a part of a set of two or more. They equalize energy in physically separated systems." Seeing the blank look in Harry's eyes, Flitwick grabbed two candles from the table and, using his wand, etched a rune into each. He put one back on the table and kept the other. "Watch the one on the table when I try to blow out this candle." Facing away from the table, he blew lightly at the candle in his hand, and Harry noticed that the one on the table dimmed. He blew a second time, harder, and both flames nearly died out before flickering back to life. A third puff, much more powerful, and both extinguished.

"The rune is commonly used on candles. The ones in the Great Hall all have them. It creates a web of energy, so if one candle is caught in a draft, the excess heat from the rest will keep it from extinguishing. It would take a wind great enough to blow them all out at once to overcome it. The rune here," Flitwick said, tapping the paper, "works differently, of course. Miss Granger figured that out, too. It's slightly different in how it's formed, but very different in how it works."

"They only work on one direction," Severus supplied, his voice steady and unreadable.

Flitwick looked up at him, surprised. "That's right."

"Naturally. The Dark Lord would not allow his own power to be pulled from him just to protect an underling. And we've killed enough to know they're not all linked to each other. So, just to him, then."

The truth sank into Harry's mind. Hermione grabbed his hand as the full realization hit him. "I'm so sorry, Harry. When I realized what that rune was, I wanted to be wrong. I've never wanted to be so wrong in all my life."

"I know, Hermione. It's not your fault. And I'm glad you figured it out. Imagine if you hadn't…" He left the rest of that unsaid. "We know whose fault all of this is."

"I've still never felt this terrible." She glanced up at Severus, sorrow still in her eyes.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, for all of your help on this," Severus said to her. "You've done more than anyone but Harry to free me of this, and I do appreciate it." Hermione could only nod in response.

"We have worked out a few specific details," Dumbledore said, before the tone of the room could turn even more morose. "It would appear that the restrictions on the runes used in the Markings make them far less efficient than in the demonstration we had from Professor Flitwick. The Dark Lord cannot draw on his Death Eaters to replenish his energy in a battle. It does, however, explain how he stayed alive after his last defeat. To use the candle as a metaphor, the runes draw off enough energy to keep an ember alive, but not much more."

"But it still means he can't die if even a single person with the Dark Mark is alive," Harry said, more as a statement than a question.

"That would appear to be correct, yes," Dumbledore replied with sorrow in his voice. "Minerva, would you see that Miss Granger gets back to the Tower?"

"Of course, Headmaster."

"Thank you. And you are excused for the evening as well, Filius." Flitwick nodded in response and followed the two women out, leaving Harry and Severus alone with the Headmaster. Dumbledore gestured to two chairs and settled into a third.

Seeing Severus take his seat, Harry followed. He had no energy to fight the Headmaster alone, even with just words. Everything had just changed. Even more so than when they had found out that removing the Mark could kill Severus. That had not mattered when they believed they could kill Voldemort without Severus dying.

"I am sorry to hear this news. If I had had any idea that the Mark was as complicated as it was, I would have shared my fears with you, Severus."

"I know that, Albus. I know that you are trying to save as many people as you can."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledor said. "Harry, I hope you will believe me when I say that if I thought there was anything I could do, I would. I still do not approve of this relationship." Harry looked up, not wanting to argue but feeling like he had to speak up, but the Headmaster kept talking. "But I have never wanted anything but the best for you. And for Severus, too."

"This is what's best for us," Harry replied.

Severus took his hand in his and said softly, "Let it go, Harry. Accept what he's offering, for now."

Seeing that Severus was right, Harry nodded. "Sorry, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded to Harry. "What I want both of you to know is this: even with this unfortunate revelation, I have not given up hope. The Dark Lord is powerful, but he is neither omnipotent nor omniscient. He has accounted for every contingency he could foresee, but even he cannot see the future with crystal vision. There is something he has overlooked and we shall find it."

Harry did not feel very confident of that, but responded with his thanks anyway. Severus did the same, and the pair left together. When they arrived at the passageway to the dungeons, Harry softly said, "Maybe I should just go back to the Tower now. I know if I go back with you, I won't be able to leave you in the middle of the night."

Severus lifted his hand as if to reach for Harry, but stopped himself. Though no one was in the hallway except them, he was always careful. "If you wish," he said.

"What do you wish?" Harry said, noting an unexpected waver in Severus's voice.

The silence stretched on as Severus stood perfectly still before Harry. Finally, his voice barely audible even to Harry, Severus replied, "I want to be near you tonight."

Harry knew how hard it was for Severus to ask for help, especially the kind of help he was asking for now. "Can I go tell Ron to cover for me in the morning? I have the cloak and map. I'll come right down. Or you can wait here. Or I can just come with you. Ron will figure it out."

"No, go tell Weasley whatever you need to tell him. I'll be waiting in my rooms." Silently, Severus faded into the dim passageway.

Harry hurried up to the Tower. There were a few students still awake in the common room, but Ron was already in their room.

"Harry, Hermione told me about-" He glanced at the door and glared in frustration. "About what she found out. I'm really sorry, mate. Really."

"Yeah," was all Harry could muster to say in response. "Is she okay?"

"She was washing up. I was about to see if she wanted to talk some more. She feels guilty because she figured it out."

"I know. It's silly, but I guess I understand. Let her know we both appreciate everything she's done. I already said it to her, but as bad as it is knowing now, it would be a lot worse to find out later." Harry felt guilty not going to find Hermione, but he knew Ron would stay with her if she needed it, and Severus would be alone if Harry stayed. He told Ron where he was going and Ron agreed to make up something if anyone noticed he wasn't around in the morning. Harry also told him about Severus's answer to his midnight runs between the dungeon and the Tower. Ron said it sounded perfect, even though they wouldn't need it that night.

When he returned to the dungeon, Harry was surprised to find the bust of Salazar was gone. Tapping the stone that served as Severus's doorbell, Harry wondered if Severus had followed through on his threat from earlier.

"No more Salazar?" Harry asked once the archway appeared.

"He started to lecture me on appropriate relationships and I was not in the mood. He has been relocated to an unused hallway. Facing the corner. With a sack over him."

Harry laughed. Given everything that had happened since, he had not given much thought to being called Severus's catamite. He knew it would have bothered Severus more than himself, though.

"The man who built the Chamber of Secrets, giving a lecture on appropriate behavior? That's ironic."

"Yes, well," Severus replied, dryly, "it seems Salazar Slytherin harbors some prejudices."

"Hard to believe that," Harry said, taking his place on the couch.

"Indeed. I suspect we know who told Albus about us, now. I will not be spied upon, nor will I allow him to make you feel unsafe down here. So, he is disposed of."

Severus sat down next him.

"You know, Harry, what we found out—it changes nothing."

"I think it changes everything, actually." Harry held up a hand before the man could protest. "It's not what you think. I'm not giving up. I just think the Headmaster is right about this. There's something we're overlooking. Something Voldemort overlooked, too. There has to be."

"You're planning something," Severus's voice turned suspicious.

"No. Not really. There's definitely no plan yet. But I feel like all the pieces are in front of me, I just haven't put them together yet.

"And when you do put them together?"

Harry knew where Severus was going. It reminded him of something Severus had said back during the summer. About Harry not relying on his friends enough and running off alone. "No secrets, Severus. Not from you, at least, and not from Ron or Hermione, or even the rest of the Order, unless you think it's for the best. I promise."

Not much later, they both slipped into Severus's bed, neither one needing or wanting more than the other's presence beside them in the darkness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, like most of the term, Harry reflected, went by with Harry paying little attention to class. He suspected his professors noticed but let him get away with it by not calling on him. Everyone knew the kinds of things that were on his mind, and few could fault him for not paying too much attention to classwork. By the end of dinner, though, Harry's thoughts had solidified, not so much into a plan as a theory. He thought he had a plan, but it was based on a lot of assumptions and he knew he needed to get other people's opinions. When Dumbledore rose to return to his office after eating, Harry hopped off his bench and hurried to catch him.

"Headmaster, is it possible to call a meeting of the Order tonight? I have some ideas."

Dumbledore looked at him carefully. "What kind of ideas?"

"It's too much to talk about here, sir. I think I know what Voldemort's overlooked and how we can use it. But I'm not sure it'll work. It's too dangerous to try on my own."

Dumbledore looked surprised as that admission, but nodded. "I can see who is available to meet. As you know, we never call the entire Order together unless the need is dire."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. If you can get Tonks and Moody, that would be great. I know they might be busy, though. Shacklebolt, too?"

"And the Weasleys?"

Harry thought about it and shook his head. "I don't think they'd be helpful, sir. It's not that they aren't great wizards, but if I'm right, there's a chance I'll be in danger. I don't think they'd accept that possibility."

"Very well, I'll contact the three you named. Professor Snape will be joining us, yes?"

"Of course," Harry responded, trying not to sound too defensive. Severus would not like him being in danger, but if he was right, he thought he could convince Severus that it was worth the risk. "I'd also like Ron and Hermione, there. Ginny, Neville and Luna, too. They all know as much as I do about this. And Professor Jones, as well. Oh, and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, too."

"That's quite a list, Harry, but I'm willing to trust you. If this is what it takes to get you to share your plans before you act, I'm willing to play along."

"Thank you, sir. If I'm right, I'm going to need everyone's help in this."

An hour later, nearly everyone was crowded into Dumbledore's study. Remus was attending to something covert and could not be contacted, but Shacklebolt had arrived in his place.

"Well," Dumbledore said, gathering everyone's attention and quelling the quiet conversations going on around them. "Mr. Potter has called this meeting. Would you like to begin?" He nodded to Harry, who stood up when his name was mentioned.

"Thank you, Headmaster. First, does everyone here know what we've found out about the Dark Mark? Including what Hermione discovered?" Hermione looked less uncomfortable about her part in the discovery. Harry, having thought about it, was actually relieved at the revelation she had come to. Dumbledore indicated that they all had, so Harry continued.

"Then let me tell you what I'm thinking. But first, I want to make some assumptions. I believe the Prophesy. And if someone wanted to, they could argue that my defeating Voldemort is impossible. That wouldn't violate the Prophesy. I'd die; he'd live. But there are thousands of wizards for whom that is true, so I don't think there would be some big prophesy just to say I'm going to die like a thousand other people." Harry looked around and saw that everyone seemed to agree. He knew everyone thought he was capable of defeating Voldemort. But he was building up a case on which everything relied on the Prophesy being real.

"I've thought a lot about that last set of runes Hermione found. If they work the way everyone says they do, then I can't beat him in battle." He held up a hand to quiet everyone as several people, mostly his classmates, started to argue. "There's no way. Even if I was willing to let everyone Marked die in the process, it's just impossible. I'd have to get him to near death, then continue to cast spells at him until every Death Eater in the world was drained completely. I can't do that. I doubt everyone in this room together could do that. He'd certainly call for help well before it got that far, and then we'd have to fight off whoever came to rescue him, all while keeping Voldemort from escaping. It can't be done. And we can't just go kill all the Death Eaters until he's got no one left. For one thing, he'll Mark more. Plus we don't know who they all are, especially if he's Marking wizards on the continent now."

Secretly, that was what had given Harry hope. If Voldemort could be destroyed, it meant that the Mark could be removed. That was the only way it was possible.

"Okay, Harry," Tonks said. "I think you've made your case. So what do you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking about something the Headmaster said last night. That there must be something Voldemort's overlooked. Something he couldn't plan for. It has to be this." He pushed his bangs back to display his scar. "We know it's like the Mark, but different. And everyone agrees that it works in ways he'd never allow if he was able to control it. The way to defeat him has to have something to do with it, because that's the only thing that makes me different."

Harry could see Severus's eyes narrowing with suspicion as he continued. He knew Severus would not like what he had to say, but he hoped he could get the man to see that it was the only way.

"Two more assumptions, then. There's a time limit. We don't know what it is, but the Prophesy says one can't live unless the other dies. So even if I tried to sit here in the Headmaster's office, protected by all his wards, there's no way I'll live to a hundred while Voldemort is out there. It's one or the other, and there probably isn't much time left before the Prophesy is fulfilled one way or the other. I'm in no rush, but I don't think we can afford to wait a whole lot longer. Especially since Hogwarts isn't as safe we'd thought." No one looked happy at that thought, but, surprisingly, no one argued. He suspected everyone had thought something similar at some point anyway, especially after what happened with Dean.

"Finally, I'm in danger. It's that simple. Whatever it is that's going to defeat Voldemort, it'll put me in danger. We're not going to find a spell that I can cast from here that will kill Voldemort. I'll need to be near him, and he'll probably know I'm there. He's too well protected for me to sneak up on him, and it's unlikely to be just one spell tossed at him and it's all over. Not to mention that there will be Death Eaters, Nagini, and who knows what else protecting him. I need everyone to accept that there's a chance I'll be hurt, even die, doing this. I guess I don't believe that I have to die anymore, and I'll do everything I can to put myself in as little danger as I can, but there's no way this happens without some risk to me. Can everyone accept that?"

Harry asked the group, but he was looking at Severus as he spoke. The older man's eyes were hard, his lips set in a straight line. Begrudging agreement was muttered by everyone else, but Severus did not move or speak. He did not argue, though, nor did he leave, so Harry accepted that as good enough. The real test was coming.

"So what's the plan, Harry," Ron said, looking ready to fight for him already.

"It's not a plan yet. Just an idea. An educated guess. But my scar links me to Voldemort in a way he still hasn't guessed, and if all of the Marks are connected, then I'm connected to all the Death Eaters as well, at least in a small way. I know it sounds crazy, but I think I need to take the Dark Mark."

The rest of the evening had gone as roughly as Harry had expected. Twelve against one, everyone had argued that Harry had gone mad. But he had given a lot of thought to his idea, and ultimately all objections came down to two points: it was too dangerous, and there was no proof it would succeed. But Harry countered that there would be no guarantees in any plan. The only plans that could possibly succeed were the ones that were impossible to test. Anything else, Voldemort would have thought of. The complexity of the Dark Mark showed that all too well. As created, they exposed Voldemort to no risk. The scar alone, too, posed no physical risk to the Dark Lord. Early in the night, Shacklebolt had suggested using the scar's link to initiate a possession, but it had fallen flat. Dumbledore was fairly sure that the spells that linked Voldemort to his new body—and protected Harry from Voldemort's using the scar to spy via Harry—would also prevent possession via the known methods, and experimentation was too risky.

That acknowledgement had started to swing the argument Harry's way. The Dark Lord still appeared unaware of the depth of the link between them. Any experimentation risked exposing it. It might not be possible for the Dark Lord to protect himself further from it, but Harry did appear correct when he said that the scar link was the key. Best it remained a secret until they decided to strike.

"How exactly do you think your scar will save you, Harry?" Tonks asked after some time.

Harry struggled to explain. It seemed more intuition than anything else—a sense of how the link worked. "It's like—a back door, I suppose. Or a hole in the fence between my house and his." Harry ignored Severus's snort and continued. "Hermione said it herself weeks ago. If I were Marked and I cast the spell to unbind the runes, it wouldn't be like I was trying to break into the binding, but out of it. That should work."

"I said, it _might_ be like that, and it _might_ work. But if it didn't, Harry…" Hermione stared at him, her eyes pleading with him to reconsider.

Hours later, nothing had been decided firmly. The meeting had ended with Harry suggesting that they meet again to create some kind of plan based on his idea. He pointed out that, since it appeared that Voldemort had some method to penetrate the school's defenses, they needed something to fall back on should Harry and Voldemort come face to face. He was willing, in fact eager, for someone to suggest a better idea: one with better chances. But since no one had, he insisted that they go with his for now. Through it all, Severus had hardly spoken, offering his opinion only when asked and in the briefest terms.

After, Harry returned to dungeon with Severus. The other man's silence worried him, and he braced himself for an argument when they were alone. Stepping through the archway, Harry pulled off his cloak and waited for it. But nothing came.

"Tea?" Severus asked, sounding nothing but tired.

"No," Harry replied, watching the man as he sat on the couch. Severus nodded and stepping into the kitchen. The clink of dishes eventually heralded the Potions Master back into the room.

"Well?" Harry asked. He could not bear the silence. A part of him expected Severus to ask him to leave and not return. How could anyone be in a relationship with someone who, at any moment, would be facing his destiny with a plan that no one had any reason to believe would succeed?

"You've given this idea of yours a lot of thought," Severus replied.

Harry nodded. "And what do you think of it?"

"Does it matter?" Severus asked.

"Of course. You're one of the smartest people I know. If anyone knows more about the Dark Lord or the Mark than me, it's you. And you're my . . . You're the most important person in the world to me. Of course I want to know what you think. I need to know you support this plan."

"And if I don't? If I think that taking the Dark Mark would the stupidest, most reckless idea you've had in a life full of stupid, reckless ideas?"

Harry felt himself growing defensive. "You have a better idea, then?" He challenged the man.

"No!" Severus shouted, his teacup falling to the floor and shattering. Harry jolted as if struck. "I don't have a better idea! My whole world balances on the hope—the hope!—that this scheme might work. We have no reason to believe it will. No evidence whatsoever suggests we can use the Mark against him actively, scar or no. So I'll be huddled in this hole, praying to gods I don't believe in that you come back to me because I can't be there with you, and I don't have a damn thing to suggest as a better idea!" Severus turned suddenly and stormed into his workroom. Harry sat on the couch, his hands shaking.

The sound of a cauldron thumping onto the workbench came from the other room as Harry cast a cleaning spell to keep the tea from soaking into the rug. Trying to be quiet, Harry peered into the other room at Severus's back.

"Severus?" Harry said, just loud enough for his voice to carry to the other man.

"The infirmary is short on a few things." Harry thought he heard a tremor in Severus's voice.

Walking over to him, Harry put a hand on his shoulder and pressed his cheek to his back. "I'm sorry Severus. I would escape this if I could."

Severus let his tools drop on the counter and turned around, wrapping his arms around Harry. "No, you wouldn't. Prophesy or no, you'd fight against him." Unable to argue, Harry just nodded.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two weeks passed uneventfully. Harry spent nearly every evening with Severus, of course, and dutifully signaled his safe return to the tower. As Harry had hoped, several contingency plans were made, most based on how to keep Harry alive long enough to do what needed to be done, and after as well. Severus had insisted on procedures to rescue Harry should his idea fail. It would put many of them in danger, but Harry found he could not argue. If his plan did not work, then he would need to live long enough to try another. The odds of him having a second chance were slim, though, and Harry secretly assumed he would only have the one chance. One way or the other, Harry knew, it would be soon. Exams were coming up, and once everyone left for holiday the Dark Lord was bound to find another victim for his spell. As he made his way with Ron and Hermione to Charms, Harry wondered whether it would be another innocent like Dean or a volunteer. He knew it mean nothing to Voldemort to sacrifice a follower. But would he prefer to use someone closer to Harry just for the sake of hurting him more?

Harry shook the morbid thoughts away. Such ideas were coming more and more frequently lately, and he needed to have control over his own mind. Occlumency would play a key role in his plan. For now, all he could do was wait and try to be prepared.

The three students had just sat down in the Charms classroom when the screams started.


	31. Chapter 31

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Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 31

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Harry, Ron and Hermione leapt from their seats and ran for the door to the Charms classroom immediately. Neville took just a moment to appear beside them, wand drawn. Their reflexes had been honed by months of training, and a part of each longed to use their skills. The yelling was coming from outside the castle, and the fear and panic was unmistakable.

The four reached the main doors to the castle as a group of students came running through. Hermione tried to stop them for information, but Harry spotted black robes rushing from behind them and shouted to his friends.

Ducking behind the archway, Harry hit the lead Death Eater full in the chest with a blasting curse, sending the man cartwheeling back. A second wizard appeared, this one walking more cautiously. Harry tried another blasting curse, but the Death Eater blocked it. He returned fire with a curse of his own, but it was deflected before Harry had a chance to respond. Flitwick stood beside him.

"I'll handle this, Mr. Potter. You and the other students go into the main hall. They'll have need for you if anyone enters the castle."

"No," Harry replied quickly, taking a moment to throw a petrifying spell at the advancing wizard. The Death Eater blocked it easily, along with the _Expelliarmus_ that quickly followed. "Everyone, go with Flitwick to the main hall. Whoever's coming doesn't know it's more than just me here. If I surrender to him, he'll probably take me to Voldemort right away. The longer this goes on, the more this will look like a trap."

"Are you sure about this, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked. His friends just watched him in silence. They had all promised that when the time came, they'd let him make this decision.

"I am. Let them think I'm a coward turning myself once I saw Hogwarts isn't safe. He's coming faster."

Harry took a single potion from his belt and drank it in a single gulp, then handed the belt to Ron. The group left him alone, though Harry knew how hard it must have been for them. "Thank Merlin Severus isn't here."

Harry stepped out into the open doorway, arms held wide and his wand visible.

"I'd like to speak to the Dark Lord," he called out to the Death Eater before the other wizard had a chance to blast him.

"Take me for a fool, boy?" The masked wizard called back. Harry recognized the voice from the many meetings he had spied upon through Voldemort's eyes, but he could not associate a name. It did not matter anyway.

"Take my wand, then. But hurry. The teachers will be here soon." He was going to add that Voldemort probably wanted him alive, but the _Stupefy_ hit him square in the chest first.

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Severus took the stairs up from the Potions classroom two at a time. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third years he had been teaching were heading to the Great Hall as ordered. Severus's only thoughts were of Harry. He knew the Death Eaters would do as much damage as they could to the school and its students, but Harry was surely the target. Rounding the corner, he nearly collided with the Granger girl.

"Harry?" Severus asked, scanning the corridor beyond for a sign of the boy. He noticed Weasley coming up behind, holding one of the potions belt. That was all the answer he needed.

"Harry asked to talk to You-Know-Who," Granger said. "I don't know who he asked. They're all wearing masks. But they're gone. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall are at the front doors. They said more teachers were coming to help them. They sent us with everyone else to the Great Hall. Neville went there to find the Headmaster, but we came looking for you instead."

It took all of his years of practice to control his fear and push it aside. There were still sounds of fighting, so the battle had not ended with Harry's disappearance. He took the belt from Weasley and strapped it around himself just higher than the one he was already wearing. "Stay close to me. When Harry calls, we won't have much time. Remember your training," he said to them both. "Jones and I have drilled as much into you as we can. Trust in that." The pair nodded, looking terrified and determined.

"Where did they come from?"

Granger replied that the first shouting had been from outside. He considered their next move when a messenger spell sped to him.

"Death Eaters in the owelry. Come," Severus ordered, breaking into a run, expecting the two to follow him. They were halfway to the stairs to the tower when a blasting curse sent shards of the stone wall between him and Weasley. Ducking into a niche in the wall, the three huddled close as another spell flew past.

"Go on," Granger said quickly, casting a spell blindly down the hallway. "I'll catch up." Keeping low, she peered down the hallway and let fly a string of hexes. A shouted curse suggested a hit, but another blasting curse crashed into the wall near them. Granger cast a shield spell and held it across the hallway. Severus grabbed Weasley's arm and started running.

"Wait!" The boy yelled. "Hermione!" Severus yanked harder and looked back in time to see a spell bounce off the shield and crash into the wall.

"She'll be fine, you idiot. You won't be if I have to drag you all the way to the Owlery."

They reached the staircase and Severus did not slow his pace as he started climbing.

"We're not supposed to split up," Weasley argued. "When we trained-"

"When we trained, Harry was there to be protected," Severus shot back with a bitterness in his voice he had not anticipated. He stopped and turned to Weasley. "Plans change. One thing that has not: if you run into a Death Eater, it's kill or be killed. Do you understand?"

Ron looked taken aback for a moment, then recovered, straightening his back and nodding.

Footsteps from above caused them both to press against the wall. Severus considered their position. There was little room to maneuver on the spiral staircase. There was nowhere to hide that would not be exposed once the Death Eaters came closer. He pulled a large bottle from his potions belt and held it for Weasley to see, trusting him to recognize it. Ron responded by pulling out a small vial from his own belt, which Severus identified as the antidote. Taking his own dose, Severus waited until the first booted foot came into view and pitched it as far up the stairs as he could. It shattered against a wall, and within second the first body came falling from above and crumpled to a heap just a few feet ahead of the pair.

"I'll finish up here," Severus said to Weasley. "Go back to Miss Granger and see if she still needs help. If not, I'll meet you both at the bottom of the stairs."

Whether he had some sense of what Severus planned and wanted to be away from it, or he wanted to go help the girl, Severus did not know. Either way, he did not argue as he turned away and hurried down. Severus listened carefully for sounds of anyone who escaped the sleeping potion. It was lighter than air and the tower had only a few, very small windows. He expected by now even the owls were asleep.

Creeping up the staircase with his wand in one hand and his knife in the other, Severus came across a total of six Death Eaters. Four he knew; the other two looked young enough to have been Durmstrang students. He cleanly slit their throats and left their bodies piled in the Owlrey.

Downstairs, he found Weasley and Granger waiting for him. "She took out three Death Eaters in the hallway," Weasley boasted. Granger looked troubled, though, and Severus suspected she had been forced to kill at least one of them.

"You or them, Granger," Severus said, simply. He led them back to the Great Hall where he knew Albus and whomever he had managed to call from the Order would be waiting. Harry's plans notwithstanding, Albus and the faculty had been expecting an attack from the Death Eaters for years and everyone knew their role.

In the Hall, the students were seated along their tables, but facing out on the benches to make a quick evacuation easier. Several wands were pointed at the group as Severus followed the two students in and pushed the door closed again. He noted Longbottom and the Weasley girl's wands among them. To his left, Lovegood sat at the edge of the Ravenclaw bench closest to the door, her wand also in hand. Severus expected Granger and Weasley to return to their house, but they stayed close to him as he strode down the center aisle to the dais where Albus stood. The rest of the faculty was spaced evenly along the walls and between the Houses' tables.

"The Owlery is secure," Severus told Albus. "I have sealed the hatch from below. Send someone with a strong stomach to clean up." He knew Albus would understand. "There are three more in the corridor south of the tower as well. Miss Granger dispatched them."

"Good work, Miss Granger," Albus said. Granger barely nodded in acknowledgement. "I believe the danger has passed, then. At least for now."

"Headmaster?" Weasley spoke up. "How did they get in? Is Dean. . ."

"Mr. Thomas is, to the best of my knowledge, safe and sound in Ministry care. I'm afraid the attack began at Hagrid's hut. A griffin came in last night favoring a leg. Hagrid was nursing it back to health."

"A griffin?" Weasley asked.

"Of course," Granger answered, looking more herself. "A spell that powerful would need something powerful to drain. A wizard, or a magical creature."

"Quite right," Albus said. Severus felt himself losing patience with the magic lesson. He knew he could do nothing until Harry called for him, but the knowledge that could do nothing just made things that much harder.

"We'll need to find out how they made it into the Owlery," Longbottom added, surprising Severus who had not even noticed him approach.

Albus dispatched Tonks to investigate, knowing she would do whatever was needed to be done with the bodies in the tower as well. Moments after she left, Severus's arm began to tingle.

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Harry regained consciousness, sore from head to foot. He blinked, trying to get the world around him into focus before realizing that his glasses were missing. Fighting the urge to panic, Harry lifted his head off the stone floor and tried to get his bearings. The room he was in was lit but just barely. Ahead of him was a doorway but he could make nothing out beyond it.

Rising to his knees, he could see the magenta and gold blur of a carpet spread in front of him, and beyond that the outline of a dark table. He recognized where he was. He was in what he had come to refer to as Voldemort's study. It was where the Dark Lord spent most of his time, and Harry knew it well. With his wits returning, Harry quickly turned his thoughts away from those dangerous memories and concentrated on wondering where Voldemort was.

He was not in suspense very long.

"Mr. Potter," Voldemort's voice hissed from behind him. "I went through so much trouble breaching Hogwarts's wards, just to find you wanted to come here all along." Harry spun and made a show of searching his robe pockets for his wand.

"Ah, what is a wizard without his wand, hm?" The Dark Lord asked. Harry could see him holding something up, he assumed it was his wand. Voldemort whispered something too quietly for Harry to hear and tapped his own wand against Harry's. Sparks flew and a screeching sound sent chills down Harry's spine. "The famous matching wand. Ollivander will regret making a twin to my own wand. But it no longer matters, does it?" Harry could just make out Voldemort as both of the Dark Lord's hands wrapped around the wand. A soft _snick_ followed by the rattle of wood against the stone told Harry of the last moments of his wand. Despite all the self-control he was exercising, Harry could not hold back a small gasp as the realization sunk in.

"Now, tell me, Mr. Potter. Before I give you the death that is so long overdue you, what exactly do you think you can offer me? I assume you wish to beg for your life."

Harry brought all of his Occlumency training to bear as he responded, "A trade."

Voldemort laughed. The sound of it chilled Harry. "And what can you offer that I cannot simply take?"

"Me. Not just my life. I'll take the Dark Mark." Harry forced the words out. He was terrified, and balancing his thoughts between what he needed to say and what he could not think about was nearly impossible.

"You have my curiosity, Mr. Potter. Congratulations. Few who beg for their life live long enough to hear me refuse. And what do I give up in exchange for seeing Harry Potter become one of my Death Eaters?"

"Snape," Harry responded. This has not been a part of the plan, but Harry had to improvise. He needed something Voldemort would believe even through Legilimancy. "Remove the Dark Mark from Severus Snape and put it on me."

"You assume I can remove it," Voldemort responded, and Harry panicked at the thought that their assumptions had been wrong. He had no time to dwell on it, though, as the attack on his mind came almost immediately.

His mind filled with images of Snape, Dumbledore, his friends. He tried to block out as much as he could, but he let some of his feelings for Snape surface. The pressure on his mind increased, became unbearable, and his shields nearly broke. In desperation, Harry threw his most cherished memories between himself and Voldemort. The night Severus had told him he was welcome to his rooms whenever he wanted; the first time Severus kissed him; their first night together. Then everything stopped.

"Touching. My dear Severus has convinced you that you love him in order to free himself. He always played his parts well. No one knows the depths of his treachery as much as I." Voldemort made his way across the carpet to the single chair Harry knew was in the room. "No. He will die with my Mark upon him." Despair filled Harry as Voldemort continued. "As will you."

Magical bindings wrapped tightly around Harry as he was pulled closer to Voldemort. It worked, then. At least the part that mattered did. Harry had the presence of mind to activate his bracelet just as he came within reach of the Dark Lord.

The pain was exactly as bad as Harry remembered. For a brief moment, Harry realized that the Limbless's Draught must be working. Hermione had pointed out that, unlike a regular Marking, Harry's had a chance of sending all of the pain of the spells back into Voldemort, who would in turn send it back into Harry. Even Voldemort, who seemed to enjoy his victim's pain so much, would notice when the agony intensified as it looped over and over through the Mark and Harry's scar. The realization only lasted a moment, though, before the pain blocked everything out.

A kick in the chest brought Harry back to his sense. He had not lost consciousness, but his arm burned as if on fire. Voldemort stood above him and the second kick took him square in the face. He knew his nose was broken, but he could do nothing but call out in more pain.

"And now, Mr. Potter, you finally die. I regret that I will not see Dumbledore's face when he finds his last hope dead and bearing my brand. If he survives my Death Eaters. They are quite anxious for his blood."

Harry's mind raced. He had assumed Voldemort would want to kill him quickly after Marking him, but he had hoped for enough time to finish his plan.

"My Lord!" Someone called from the doorway and a masked, robed form entered to quickly prostrate itself before Voldemort.

"What is it?" Voldemort screamed, his wand hand pointing at the intruder. Harry knew from experience that the man would pay for interrupting him, regardless of why.

"We're under attack, sir. The Order of the Phoenix-"

While the Death Eater spoke, Harry wasted no time. Reaching inside his robe, he found his other wand, the gift from Severus he had at first been so disappointed with. He had moved it from his wrist, instead strapping it to his side along his ribcage to hide it better in a search. Wand in hand, he peeled his sleeve away from where it had stuck to the open wound of the Dark Mark and muttered the unbinding spell.

The pain in his arm was bad, but nothing like during the Marking. His scar, though, burned as bad as it ever had. Harry prayed that his guess was right, and his hated link to Voldemort would protect him from what he had just done rather than kill him like a regular Death Eater. More importantly, he hoped the magic would use the scar and the Mark to find the other linked runes on the arms of the other Death Eaters. If it did not, then all of this would be for nothing.

Not far away, the unknown Death Eater gasped and gripped his forearm. "I'm sorry, Lord!" Harry's heart jumped as he wondered if the pain was coming from what he had just done, or some punishment Voldemort was putting him through.

"Show me your Mark," Voldemort demanded, his voice too calm to indicate he had any idea what Harry had just done. "If the Order wishes a battle, we shall have one. Let them face the full strength of my force. We end this tonight."

The Death Eater knelt and presented his arm, pulling his sleeve back while his arms still shook from fear. Voldemort grabbed the man's wrist and yanked it up, twisting the arm in ways Harry knew had to be painful.

"What have you done?" Voldemort turned on Harry. "How have you done this?" He shoved the man's arm at Harry, dragging the rest of the Death Eater along. Without his glasses, Harry could not see enough to tell if the Mark was gone or not, but Voldemort had already given enough of an answer.

"_Crucio_."

Harry screamed as the curse hit him. His back arched as his whole body tensed under the pain. It only last a few moments before the Dark Lord broke the spell, his attention turning again to the door.

"Wormtail," Voldemort began as something too small and distant for Harry to identify sailed through the air. It hit Voldemort before he could raise his wand, but seemed to have no effect. A wave of odor assaulted Harry, causing him to cough and his eyes to water. Like a mix of rotten eggs and burning plastic, the caustic fumes cause both Harry and the Death Eater beside him to wretch. Voldemort raised his wand hand as recognition came to Harry. He knew that smell. It was one of many Severus had forced them to learn. Smells of the potions at their belts.

In a single movement, Harry stood and swung his wand at Voldemort. _"Incendio!" _ he called out. The ball of flame struck Voldemort just a moment before a second ball of fire erupted from the doorway. Harry's screams joined Voldemorts as the flames coursed over him.

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Harry was jostled awake. He was being carried at a run, though he had no idea where he was or where he was going. His eyes now open, he could see the blur of a robe covering one of the arms holding him. Beyond that, everything was dark. Harry had no idea if they were still inside or even who was holding him. He wondered if he was better off struggling or pretending to still be unconscious.

"It's okay, Harry," a voice said roughly between uneven breaths. "It's over." Though the words were right, Harry did not recognize the voice of the speaker and started to struggle to free himself.

"Dammit, boy, I've got you. I'm not giving you up, so stop fighting."

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, still trying to free his arms, his legs kicking out weakly. He had no energy left to fight, but that had never stopped him before.

"Who do you think it is? Ms. Granger isn't the only one who can make Polyjuice, you idiot."

"Severus?" Harry asked, his voice wavering, losing what little force he had been able to put into it. The man holding him stopped running.

"Of course," came the soft reply.

"I can walk," Harry said. "Maybe even run if I need to."

Severus lowered Harry's legs and supported him while he stood up. "Good," Severus added. Harry had a hard time connecting the scratchy, nasally voice with his Severus. "I should have picked someone stronger. It's not far to the others." The man who was Severus pointed and Harry could see a dim light further on.

"We're still in his dungeon. The Order is unsure how many Death Eaters are here now, so we are taking no chances. Neville, Ron and Hermione should be guarding our escape, while Albus and the others took the offensive."

"Okay," Harry said, gripping the man's robes. "I can't see anything, though. You'll protect me if there's fighting." It was neither a question nor a command, simply a statement.

Severus took Harry's arm and let him through the hallway. If anyone was fighting, they were doing it quietly. Severus left Harry a few steps behind as he peered through the doorway, then quickly came back to retrieve him.

"Harry!" Ron shouted as they stepped into the room. Harry could see a red-topped blur running for them before he was swept into a bear-hug. "It worked! You're brilliant!"

"Ron!" Hermione called. "Put him down! Harry, Professor Snape, what about You-Know-Who?"

On hearing her words, Harry realized he had never asked Severus whether this was a victory or an escape.

"Dead," Severus replied confidently. "Nothing left but bone and ash."

"Bone and ash, you say?" A voice Harry identified as Dumbledore's asked. "Where are these bones?"

Severus pointed back down the hallway. "You will want to make sure they are indeed his, and that there is no chance of his having survived."

"Quite right," Dumbledore replied. "Severus, Ron, Hermione, Neville, take Harry back to Hogwarts and have Poppy check on him." He pulled Harry into a hug. "Good job, my boy."

"Albus," Severus interrupted. "What about-" He pointed toward a dark blur in the corner that Harry could not make out.

"Ah," Dumbledore replied. "Well, it seems to me that that's Mr. Longbottom's decision. We'll discuss it back at the castle. For now, though, Harry's the priority."

"Agreed." Severus walked Harry out of the room and into another, explaining that the building and area was warded against portkeys and apparating.

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For the last time as a student at Hogwarts, Harry woke up in the infirmary with his friends anxiously waiting around him. Severus was noticeably absent, and Hermione explained that he had been there for some time but left after announcing he needed to brew something that would not wait. While Severus was gone, Harry had everyone tell their stories. He found out, to his amazement, that he had not encountered the first group of Death Eaters. Ginny and Luna had been in the greenhouse when the attack came. Professor Sprout had led the students back to the Great Hall at the first sign of trouble, but when three Death Eaters had intercepted the group, Ginny and Luna blasted them. Neville said he had stayed in the Great Hall during it all until Severus yelled for him to join them get Harry.

"They made us stay behind," Luna added. "When Professor Snape said you needed them, they made me and Ginny stay in the Great Hall. But that's okay. With most of the teachers and Aurors going to look for you, someone had to make sure there were no Death Eaters left." Her soft, lilting voice belied the courage and strength beneath her words.

"I'm surprised they let any of you come help me," Harry admitted.

"They didn't really talk about it," Ron said. "Snape said you needed help, then he yelled out for us, the Headmaster, and most of the Order members to grab hold of a portkey. It happened so fast, mum and dad didn't even realize what was happening. Snape had them stay behind to help guard the rest of the students."

Harry laughed. "I bet he did it to bug your mum."

"I did it," Severus said, stepping around the curtain that separated Harry's bed from the rest of the room, "because your friends had trained for what we were going into, and their parents had not. I have already told them as such."

"And mum took that as an answer?" Ron asked, eyes wide.

"Of course not. I'm never to be in the same room with you again. And I should be locked up for taking three children with me to face a horde of Death Eaters."

"What'd you say to that?"

"I agreed. It seemed simpler than arguing with her."

"Huh," Ron said. "I should try that."

With Ron pondering a new approach to his mother, Severus turned to Neville. "Mr. Longbottom, a moment of your time?"

Neville nodded, looking as if he had expected to be summoned. They stepped across the room, too far for Harry to hear, but still within sight. They spoke for several seconds. Neville nodded once, then held his face in his hands as he began to cry. Severus reached out one hand awkwardly to touch Neville's shoulder. Madam Pomfrey rushed into view and hugged the boy. With a glare, she shooed the relieved-looking Potions Master away. From where he has in the bed facing out, Harry was the only one to see what had happened.

Severus returned to him, sweeping his robes around the friends huddled around Harry and sat in the chair at Harry's side. With Severus came a faint scent, one familiar to Harry though he could not place it. Whatever it was, it smelled pleasant. Luna sniffed at air, then leaned closer to the Potions Master, still testing the air.

"Oh my," Luna said. "Bellatrix is a squib now, isn't she?"

Harry was perplexed, and Severus glared at the girl.

"What makes you say that?" He asked her.

"Chocolate and hazelnut," she replied.

"Nutella?" Harry asked. Everyone but Hermione looked at him like he was speaking gibberish. "I guess wizards don't eat Nutella," he said lamely.

"It's what Squink smells of. Squib Drink. It's a very rare potion. My father says no one alive is skilled enough to make it."

"For once, your father is wrong," Severus said, not unkindly. "It's both difficult and dangerous to make, and must be administered within moments of its brewing or it loses all effectiveness. Which is why, I suspect, the Dark Lord never took up my invitation to stay in my workroom when I was brewing for him. Anyway, with LeStrange already in the dungeons-" he let the sentence end itself. "As Mr. Longbottom saw earlier today, she has driven herself madder than she had driven his parents. Once the Mark faded and the Dark Lord's death apparent, her insanity took a more ferocious turn. I suspect he will not want to discuss it, but you all have a right to know. He asked that she be kept alive, as death is a mercy she does not deserve. I have simply made sure she can do no more harm."

"Sounds like justice to me," Harry observed. Pitying Death Eaters who enjoyed what they did in Voldemort's name was hard enough for him. He could find no compassion at all for the woman who had tortured his friend's parents.

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After Harry's friends left, Severus sat on the side of Harry's bed, holding Harry's hand in his own while he checked him for every spell he could think of. "I'm fine, Severus. Really. I wasn't there very long, and he only cast _Legilimens_ at me. Well, that and the spells for the Dark Mark."

Harry's eyes shot open wide as he remembered the Mark. "Is it gone?" He pulled his hand free of Severus's and pushed his sleeve back. Wincing in pain, he realized that regardless of the magic involved, his arm had still been burned and branded. The flesh of his forearm was blackened and peeling, though the healing potion Pomfrey had given him had begun to repair the worst of the damage. Harry looked over at Severus and saw a flash of sorrow in his eyes for the briefest moment.

"Severus?" Harry asked softly. "The Mark? I know what I did worked, but—is it gone?"

Severus folded his arms in front of him and simply shook his head. "It is faded. But it remains."

"May I see it?" The question was unfair and he knew it. Severus would want to spare Harry from his failure, but he would not refuse Harry.

Severus slipped his sleeve up just far enough for Harry to make out the faded outline of part of the Mark. It was certainly far less noticeable than it had been even the day before, but it was still there. Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry Severus. I promised to get that off you, but I couldn't."

Severus stared at him for a moment, his eyebrow lifting disdainfully. Then he sighed. "I'm in love with an idiot."

Harry felt the warm flush blooming up his neck and face. "You are?" he whispered.

Severus cupped his face gently in one hand. "Quite."

Harry struggled to sit up to kiss Severus, but his robes and the blankets conspired against him. Luckily, Severus leaned down to spare him the effort and captured his lips with his own.

"I love you, too, Severus."


End file.
